


The Humbling River

by Lanalin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fade Dreams, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Healers, Hurt/Comfort, MGiT, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Redemption, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Swearing, The Fade, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-06-17 23:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 202,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanalin/pseuds/Lanalin
Summary: Natalie Brooks is an overworked registered nurse from Chicago, disillusioned with the violent side of human nature that she sees in the ER every day. Returning from work one night, she finds herself the victim of an act of senseless violence and wakes in a world at war.Surrounded by things she has only seen in movies, she is rattled to the core at the turn her life has taken. Unable to return to her former life and struggling to overcome her trauma, Natalie volunteers her skills as a healer to aid the Inquisition.But things are rarely as they seem.





	1. Part One: Bittersweet Relief

**Part One**

 

* * *

 

She wasn't born herself

She found herself

over a long

and treacherous road

and the more treacherous

the road became

the more of

herself

she found.

-[Atticus](https://www.atticuspoetry.com/)

 

* * *

 

 

The stinging ache in her feet radiated up her calves as Natalie trudged home slowly, her jute sack of groceries slung over her shoulder and sweat dripping down her forehead in the stifling July air. The Midwest had been under a severe heat warning for the past 3 days, and the nights were just as unbearably humid and disgusting as the days. The weight of 11 hours of work at the hospital pressed down on her, suffusing her every step with weariness. The weight of the teenage girl who had died on her watch today pressed on her mind in a similar fashion.

Eight years. Eight years she had been a nurse, and the loss of a patient never ceased to take her breath away. Subjectively, she knew at this point that there were cases where there was nothing she could do. Nothing the doctors could do. Humans were fragile creatures, prone to illness and injury and their own folly. Sometimes it was a mercy to see them pass into a peaceful death. An elderly patient could slip away after a long illness, ensconced in the warm embrace of their family. The peace on a face so recently twisted in pain a ray of sunshine through the storm clouds of grief. A person could walk away knowing that their beloved family member was gone on to a better place, that the months of uncertainty were over, and they would be in pain no longer. Bittersweet relief.

Then there were the days like today. Days where a 15-year-old girl was wheeled into the ER after her asshole boyfriend had punched her in the stomach until she lost the baby she was carrying. Days where she watched a young life taken away in a wash of blood. Days where she stood helpless as drug addictions, and poverty, and senseless violence tore people out of this world and carried them into the next.

Natalie gave her head a forceful shake, trying to dislodge the painful images burned into the backs of her eyelids. Too many hours worked. Too little sleep. Too many tears shed. Too many overnight shifts and too many cups of shitty coffee to stave off the bone deep fatigue she could never seem to sleep off. She could feel her grasp on her own mind wearing dangerously thin, and see every one of her 29 years in the dark under eye circles on her face.

Shoulder muscles wound harder than steel shifted under the rough straps of the bag as she moved it from one arm to the other, trying to ease the pinch and rub as she walked. She resented the empty fridge in her apartment for forcing this late night trip on her way home from work. Nothing sounded better right now than the cool sheets of her king sized bed. The urge to crawl beneath the covers and resurface for air sometime next month was almost too tempting to resist.

A lone car blew past her, the loud bass vibrating her and echoing between the buildings lining the deserted street. The artificial light of the street lamps left deep, harsh shadows on the pavement. Sharp edges of dark and light that grated across her frayed nerves. The heaviness of the humid summer air pressed around her, oppressive in its relentlessness.

Natalie had lived in Chicago nearly her entire life. The hurried pace of life in the city suited her often distracted brain. She had grown up in the outer suburbs before leaving to go to college in Boston. The change from subdivisions and strip malls to historic neighborhoods and a walkable lifestyle had proved too tempting to resist when she moved back home to put her nursing degree to good use. Her little studio apartment in the old Art Deco building had soul and character, and she adored it even though it cost three times what an apartment in the suburbs would.

As she reached the door to her building, she fumbled for her keys, digging for them deep in the pockets of her scrub pants as she tried to juggle her bags. A sudden movement caught in her peripheral vision. She turned her head, her hand tensing around her keys. All of a sudden, she felt a vise close over her mouth and nose and an iron bar clamp around her middle. It drug her back into the shadows just outside the pool of light create by street lamp just beside the door.

Natalie struggled against the hands holding her back, tears springing to her eyes. Her feet scrambled for purchase to stop herself from being drug deeper into the shadows. The grip around her head and stomach only tightened, making it hard to catch her breath. She tried to jab her elbow back into her assailants side, but her arms were too securely pinned. Raising her foot, she brought down her heel on the person's shoe. She heard a satisfying crunch as her weight connected with the delicate bones on the top of their foot. A grunt of pain whooshed past her ear as they doubled over, bending her forwards with their sudden weight against her back. Natalie used the opportunity to whip her head backwards into theirs.

A burst of pain radiated across the back of her head as bone met bone, and another across her cheek as she was spun and a fist connected with her face. Stars exploded in her vision as the blood rushed to her head. Her arm met the concrete sidewalk with sickening thud as her purse and groceries went flying, scattering across the sidewalk.

“Bitch!” A male voice came muffled from beneath a dark hoodie.

Pain exploded along her rib cage. She couldn’t breathe. What had just happened? She felt herself curl into a ball as his foot connected with her side a second time. Another explosion of pain and a crunch of bone as her ribs gave way under his boot. Her voice came out as a gurgle as she tried to scream.

Natalie caught a glimpse of pale skin and dark stubble on his chin as he rolled her onto her back. The shifting her ribs against each other scraped her chest raw, stealing her breath and voice. All she could manage was a deep, wet groan.

The jingle of coins against the ground pulled her conscious enough to tell her that her assailant was going through her purse. Rage burbled up inside her in a tidal wave of red. How dare this asshole do this to her, all for her phone and a couple bucks? How DARE he?!

Fighting back the haze of black around the edges of her vision, Natalie mustered up all her anger and spit in his face as he was focused on her wallet in his hand.

“Fuck you, lowlife.” Her words came out as a strained gasp as the pain in her ribs seared through her.

She heard a loud explosion and saw a flash of light before a spear of burning pain tore through her chest. The blackness narrowed her vision down into the smallest points of light. The frantic patter of retreating feet sounded miles away as her consciousness tunneled down deep into her brain. The world moved slowly as she felt the burble of liquid fill her lung and watched one of her newly bought apples roll slowly away, through the circle of light and into the shadows.

A rumble of thunder rattled her bones before a flash of green lightning tore across the sky, and then… silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction in.... man, like 10 years at least. Let me know what you think! This chapter is meant as more of a prologue. 
> 
> More to come...


	2. Toward the Light

A warm cloud pillowed her body. She could feel it cushion her as she drifted softly in the waves. Weightless. Natalie let her mind drift into the perfect silence, stretching herself towards the bright, warm sunlight streaming in above her. She could feel the comforting warmth on her face as she smiled and reached out her arms languorously toward it. But her arms did not obey like they should.

Her body felt heavy and her limbs moved as if through deep sand. She forced herself upright, but she could feel the pull of invisible threads holding her to the ground. A sliver of apprehension wormed its way into her brain. Why couldn’t she move her body properly? Why did she feel like the was swimming through honey? Why was everything dark blurs and light? Why couldn’t she see anything?

Fear spiked in her gut, leaving a sick feeling. This Gulliver didn’t want to make this trip anymore. Gulliver was getting off this fucking island.

She clawed her way toward the light, feeling the ties snap and release as she pulled away from the once comforting cloud she lay upon. The warmth on her face burned hotter as the light intensified. Natalie reached toward it, pulling her heavy legs behind her as she inched forward. Sweat began to run down her face and in between her breasts as the heat beat at her skin, leaving it tight and dry.

She pulled herself along for what seemed like hours. The light grew brighter and brighter until her fingers reached some sort of ledge above her, the first real handhold she had found. Grasping with both hands, she took a deep breath and mustered what strength remained in her exhausted and overheated muscles and heaved herself over a sheer ledge into total darkness.

“The fever has broken, but her body has still been through a great deal of trauma. She needs more time to recover.” The rich, male voice wrapped around Natalie’s eardrums.

“It’s been eight days! Are you certain she will recover? She hasn’t so much as opened her eyes since we found her.” Another male voice, this one slightly rougher than the first.

“She will, Commander. Her body heals. Her mind just needs to catch up.” The voice grew farther away as it continued and she could hear the faint creaking of floorboards and the continued murmur of distant conversation.

Natalie tried to open her eyelids. Never before had her eyelashes been quite so heavy. _Huh, when did that happen?_ After an immense effort, she managed to raise them just enough to let some light in. She blinked a couple of times, slowly clearing the haze from her disused eyes. _Eight days? Ive been asleep for eight days?_

Natalie was struck by the smell of woodsmoke and leather in the room. _Woodsmoke? What kind of hospital has a fireplace?_ Her tired brain muddled over this fact as she willed her eyes to open so she could see where the hell she was. Nothing seemed to respond the way it should. Her eyelids continued to creep slowly upward as she became aware of just how cramped her arms and legs felt. Muscles were locked fast into knots.

She spread her will into her extremities, hoping to convince them to stretch the disused tissues and ease the dull aches. Slowly, everything began to respond. She felt her toes twitch, and then her foot, and then the rest of her leg muscles release like a slinky. A deep, satisfied groan rolled from her throat as she felt the stiff limbs release.

A rustle of sudden movement to her bedside startled her lazy eyes open. “Maker’s Breath! She’s awake!”

A blonde man with sparkling amber eyes stood at her beside, a curious look of shock written plainly across his handsome features. A thick fur collar lay around his shoulders and covered the upper portion of a red cloak and a set of shining armor. Natalie could hear the rush of footsteps behind him as a woman in a red and white dress rushed in and knelt by her bedside. Her skin was deep brown, and she wore the strangest tall hat on her head. _What on Earth…._

“Hello, my dear. Welcome back to us.” The words were said in a distinctly French accent, and accompanied by a warm smile. “I am so glad you are awake.”

Natalie blinked as she took in the people in front of her, and then registered the room behind them. She lay in some kind of cabin. Wooden walls and ceiling enclosed her as a fire crackled merrily in the stone hearth. Her fingertips met a scratchy woven blanket, presumably wool, dyed in a deep green. A rack near the door held a bow and a sword.

Confusion blanketed her mind. _What the fuck is going on?_ She had never seen anywhere that looked like this, or people dressed quite like the two in front of her. Was this a dream? The last thing she remembered, she was walking to her apartment after work….

“Where am I?” Her voice sounded tired and hoarse.

“The town is called Haven, my dear.” The woman’s soothing voice calmed her nerves a fraction. “I am Mother Giselle. We have been treating your injuries for the past week.”

Natalie shook her head, trying to remember what had happened to her. “How did I get here?”

They blonde man’s face broke into a sympathetic smile. “We found you laying in the snow, gravely wounded. Some of our associates brought you back here for healing.”

Wounded? Her exhausted brain picked over her memories. The dead patient. Grocery shopping. Walking home in the dark…. A hand over her mouth. A searing pain in her chest. Thunder and lightning. But how had she gotten here? Why wasn’t she in Chicago, where she belonged? And snow? It was July!

“I… I don’t understand.”

Mother Giselle laid a cool hand on her brow. “You have had a high fever for many days, child. It took the expertise of myself and one of our mages to bring it down. There was also damage to your ribs and chest, as well as a considerable amount of blood loss. You are lucky to be alive.” She smoothed Natalie’s hair away from her brow. “It is normal to feel confused after such an ordeal.”

_Mage? What the HELL?_

Panic welled up in her throat. “But where am I? I don’t know where I am. I need to go home!” Her voice rose an octave with each statement as her eyes rolled around the room, searching for an exit. She started to swing her legs over the edge of the cot, intending to move past the woman next to her.

“Stop! You are still injured!” The blonde man pressed a hand to her shoulder, pushing her body back down into the mattress. “Solas!” He called over his shoulder.

The door opened to a tall, bald man in green woolen garb. Natalie struggled against the restraining hand. “Let me go!”

The bald man, whom she assumed was named Solas, moved toward the bed. His eyes were pale blue, and bored into her. Long pointed ears stuck out from either side of his head. _Wait… what? Pointed ears?_ Natalie felt the fear and panic well up again. She had to get out of whatever this fucked up dream was. She frantically tried to move out from under the grip on her shoulder.

“Let me go!” She bellowed, her voice still raspy.

A long, pale hand came down against her face as the rich voice she remembered simply said “Sleep.”

And she did.

 

* * *

 

Natalie awoke some time later to dim light and a still crackling fire. At first glance, the cabin was empty. The chair next to her bed that had previously held Mother Giselle was vacant and the air was quiet. She rolled her head and felt the satisfying pop of her vertebrae and the rush of relief in her stiff neck.

Slowly, she braced an arm against the bed and hoisted herself into a sitting position. A twinge of pain in her chest accompanied an unfamiliar pull of skin. She moved aside the plain, brown robe she wore and felt the round, smooth scar tissue on the left side of her chest. _A bullet hole. I got shot._ She closed her eyes as her fingers spasmed against the new scar. A twinge of some undefinable emotion pulled at her mind. Fear? Sadness? Shock? She found it impossible to process the emotions and define what they were.

“I would go slowly, if I were you.”

Velvety tones smoothed over her brain. Natalie looked up, surprised, to find the bald man sitting reclined in a chair next to a small table, a book perched on his knee. His piercing eyes studied her for several long moments, before he shut the book and moved across the room. His movements were graceful as he folded his long limbs into the wooden chair beside her bed.

“I don’t think I’m capable of going any faster right now. I feel like I got hit by a bus.” She croaked.

Blue eyes peered at her assessingly. “A bus?”

With the curious way he was looking at her, Natalie realized he likely didn’t know what a bus was. She didn’t know where Haven was supposed to be, but it obviously wasn’t in Chicago… and maybe not even in 2018. “Um… it a large thing that people use for transportation where I’m from.”

“And just where are you from?”

She thought for a moment about the best way to answer that question. “Chicago.”

“And where is Chicago located? I have never heard of that town. Is it in Thedas?”

Her head spun a little at the question. “Thedas? No. It’s in Illinois, in the United States.”

His face registered his intense curiosity, colored with a healthy dose of doubt. A great feeling of vertigo washed over her. He had no idea what she was talking about. “I really wish someone would tell me where the hell I am and what the fuck is going on.” She snapped.

“Did Mother Giselle not tell you earlier? You are in Haven, current home to the Inquisition.”

“Inquisition?” She could be wrong, but Natalie was pretty sure explanations were supposed to clear things up, not make them more confusing.

“Yes, The Inquisition. Lead by the Herald of Andraste, and tasked with sealing the Breach.”

“Breach?” She asked, dumbly.

His expression was incredulous. “The big one. In the sky. That is spitting out demons.”

 _DEMONS?_ She gave up. She had no idea what the hell he was on about, and did not have enough brain power to muddle it out now. “Ah… yeah, _that_ Breach.”

The corner of his mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Yes, that Breach.”

The pair of them simply stared at one another for several long moments. Natalie took in the bald head and pointed ears she had noted earlier. His features were long and chiseled, his eyes piercingly blue and his lips full. Soft brown wings of brows slashed across his face. He was tall, but widely built. His shoulders broad and strong. His posture was seemingly relaxed, but she could tell that he was wound tight and ready to react if she did something crazy. His features all added up to something surprisingly pleasing to her eye, despite the mindfuck of those long, pointed ears. _I wonder how pissed he’d be if I call him Legolas?_

He was the first to break the silence. “I am Solas. Despite our earlier encounter, I am pleased to see you awake. When we found you, we were afraid you would die before we could reach help.”

“Natalie. My name is Natalie.”

“Well, Natalie, do you know how you came to be bleeding out in the snow? Because make no mistake, you came extremely close to death.”

Natalie felt her brow crinkle as she considered what to tell him. It was obvious to her, at this point, that she was not in freaking Kansas anymore. Any second now, a tap dancing tin man was going to come out of the woodwork. The cabin, the people, their strange dress, the fact that is was apparently snowing in July, the freaking _sword_ in the corner of the room. This had to be some kind of fever dream. _Where the hell is Thedas?_

“I…” the words struggled to leave her mouth. “I don’t really remember. I was walking home, and a man attacked me. I tried to fight him off, but he hurt me. And then he took my wallet and ran away. I must have lost consciousness, and then woke up here.”

Solas studied her face like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve. “I see. That is an unfortunate turn of events.”

His casual tone of voice grated on her frayed nerves. _Unfortunate?_ She made the split second decision to change the subject. “Can… can you tell me… why are your ears pointed? Are you an elf?” The first words that came to mind were also _unfortunate._

Solas rocked back, his face displaying shock before falling back into his thoughtful mask. “I am elven.”

Natalie could tell she had offended him with her question. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I have seen an elf in person before.”

He looked momentarily bewildered, like she was some kind of alien from another planet. Natalie figured he wasn’t too far off base. “You’ve never seen an elf.” He replied, flatly.

She scrambled for an answer. “Of course not. They only exist in stories.” She knew it was a stupid thing to say as soon as she said it. She was staring at a damn elf.

“I assure you, I am no story.”

Natalie felt her face heat. “Of course, you’re not.”

Solas studied her a moment longer before heaving a sigh and rising from the chair. “I would advise you to get some more rest. Your body is still recovering from the blood loss and you will likely feel weak for a few more days.”

Natalie nodded, not particularly wanting to continue their awkward exchange. He seemed similarly inclined, as he moved toward the door. With a nod in her direction, he left her alone in the cabin as she settled back down into the bed to sleep. Her brain couldn’t handle any more right now.


	3. Underwater Basket Weaving

Natalie woke some hours later to sun streaming through a small window over the table she had seen last night. The fire was still burning, but lower than the previous night. In the light of day, the cottage was small but homey. In addition to her bed and the table and chairs, a wooden chest banded in iron sat against the far wall and a wardrobe stood at the end of the bed. Waking for the first time alone, she sighed as she ran her hands over her face, scrubbing at the sleep clouding her eyes.

There was no telling how long she had actually been asleep. She had heard them say eight days the first time she had awoken, but she had no frame of reference for how long it had been since then. She only knew that it had been dark during her conversation with Solas, and then now day again.

She sat herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Bare feet met a worn, wooden floor as she slowly shifted her weight. A twinge of pain across her ribs stopped her momentarily, as she waited to see if more would follow. Her wound seemed stable, with less pain than the last time she had woken.

Moving aside her clothing, she peered at the scar blemishing her breast in the light of day. The entry wound was small and round, puckered with pink scar tissue. She traced the edges with her fingertips thoughtfully. Her brain still refused to process the fact that she had been shot. Grateful that she had been unconscious through the entire ordeal, she carefully ran her fingers along her ribs to check for lingering pain. Finding nothing more than a couple spots of tenderness, Natalie couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something.

The door opened just as she had gathered the resolve to stand. A young woman with dark red hair and a wide, smiling face entered holding a stack of cloth.

“My lady! Please, sit before you harm yourself!” She rushed to Natalie’s side.

Natalie waved her away impatiently. “I appreciate the concern, but I need to stretch my legs more than I need to rest my wounds.” Natalie shifted her weight from foot to foot, testing to see if there would be more pain. To her surprise, she felt fairly good considering all that had happened to her.

“Please, let me assist you.” The girl placed a helping hand on Natalie’s back. 

“I’m fine, I promise. I barely feel any pain now.” There was no way that she should be fully healed with minimal pain from a gunshot wound in a week. She surmised that she must have slept far longer than she thought. A relatively clean wound in an extremity from a 9mm round still took weeks to heal properly. She had taken a shot in the chest from only a couple feet away, and then had a fever which meant her wound had gotten infected. She should be dead. How was she alive, let alone up and walking around?

The woman looked at her with deep brown eyes. “Lady, I am Maryella. Lady Josephine requested I come help you bathe and bring you some clean clothing. Mother Giselle informed them last evening that you had awoken. They wish to speak with you.”

Natalie sighed. “Thank you, Maryella. But please don’t call me lady. I’m just… Natalie.”

Maryella nodded her head briefly and moved to the door, gesturing to someone outside. Natalie sat on the edge of the bed as a wooden tub was brought in and filled with buckets of steaming water by a couple of burly, bearded men. They didn’t not acknowledge her, only went about their business and left again without a word.

“Please, Natalie. Let me assist you. I am sure you will feel better after you are clean.”

Maryella helped her remove her clothing and get into the tub. The water was only hip deep but the heat seeped into her disused muscles and she felt herself relax into it with a groan. The serving woman’s hands were impersonal as she helped Natalie wash away the days of injury and illness from her skin. She left the tub feeling better than she had in quite a while.

In quick order, she found herself garbed in brown woolen leggings and a pale green tunic. A beautiful wool coat of deep forest green was added and cinched with a leather belt. Tall leather boots and soft woolen gloves completed the ensemble. Natalie was surprised at the comfortable simplicity of the garments, although she was heartily wishing for some underwire right about now. The linen wrappings holding her breasts in place felt horribly inadequate, and she crossed her arms across her chest as Maryella pulled her long, dark brown hair into a simple braid.

“Please follow me.” Maryella moved back to the doorway and opened it, gesturing for Natalie to precede her.

Feeling a flutter of anxiety well up into her stomach, Natalie stepped gingerly out of the doorway into what she could only describe as a scene from a fantasy novel. A small village of similar wooden cabins sat around her, blanketed in a layer of snow that had been churned by the passage of countless feet. Smoke rose from the chimneys and she could hear the nearby clash of metal on metal. Men and women dressed in armor milled about, carrying supplies and hurrying about their tasks.

Where had her brain come up with a delusion this detailed? _I have to stop binge watching Game of Thrones late at night_.

She gazed about in wonder. A flash of green caught her eye in the distance and she turned to see a massive, gaping maw tearing across the clear winter sky. The whirlwind of clouds roiled angrily around a field of floating boulders. Virulent green lighting crackled and sizzled around the edges.

“Holy mother of god….” Natalie stood with her mouth gaping at the sight before her.

“The Breach. Lovely, isn’t it?” A gruff voice came from her right, and she turned to find a short, stocky man dressed in a flamboyant red coat that exposed a great expanse of hairy chest. With a start, she realized he was only half her height. _A… dwarf? Dwarves, elves… next I’m going to meet a freaking unicorn_.

“I know I’m handsome, but you don’t need to stare.”

Natalie shook her head to clear it. “I’m so sorry. That was really rude of me.”

He chuckled. “Apology accepted. Besides, I can never be angry about someone being tongue-tied by my obvious good looks and charm. Varric Tethras, storyteller, and dashingly handsome rogue.”

Natalie couldn’t help but grin at him. “Natalie Brooks. Uh… human… and yeah.” She felt a blush creep over her cheeks as she laughed awkwardly.

Luckily, he seemed to find her embarrassment vastly amusing. He laughed heartily and clapped her on the arm. “Nice to meet you, Natalie. Glad you finally woke up and decided to join us.”

“I am pretty happy to be awake, myself.”

Maryella interrupted their conversation tentatively. “I apologize, Master Tethras. Miss Natalie has a meeting she is required to attend.”

Varric smirked knowingly. “A meeting, eh? Sure it’s not an interrogation? Go on then.” He smiled at Natalie, his eyes twinkling. “And I will see you later.” With that, he swaggered off towards a nearby campfire.

Natalie silently followed Maryella across the town and into a huge stone chapel. They crossed the dimly lit room until she could hear raised voices from behind a thick, wooden door.

“You want me to walk into a pit of vipers, and you ask me that?”

“They’re not a vipers just because they like to hiss.”

“I will go with him. Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them.”

“But why? This is nothing but a—“

“What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

Maryella knocked on the door, and a gruff voice bid them to enter. Natalie found herself in a dim room where several people stood around a large table covered in maps and tiny figurines. The blonde man from the previous day, along with a tall woman in armor with short, black hair, a small redhead with a deep purple hood covering her head, a woman with deep tan skin and a loud golden and blue outfit, and a stunningly handsome elven man with a shock of long, white hair and black tattoos of tree branches across his cheekbones and forehead.

“Lady Josephine, I have brought Miss Natalie, at your request.”

The lovely dark skinned woman smiled. “Thank you, Maryella. You can go on about your normal duties.”

Maryella quickly curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.

The woman approached her quickly, pulling a chair over to her. “Please, sit. I know you are only just recovered.”

Natalie sat down, gratefully. Her side aching from the trek across the settlement.

“I am Josephine Montilyet, Ambassador for the Inquisition. I believe you met Commander Cullen Rutherford last night.” She gestured to the blonde man behind her.

Natalie nodded, remembering her run in with him. “It’s nice to be actually introduced.”

Cullen looked somewhat sheepish, no doubt remembering their less than peaceful interaction. “Also, we have Leliana, Left Hand to the late Divine Justinia,” the redhead “and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.” Natalie assumed Josephine meant the tall, dark-haired woman with the stern look on her face who was currently glaring at her.

“And finally, Haleir Lavellan, the Herald of Andraste.” The elven man inclined his head at her, his striking green eyes shining with a camaraderie she didn’t quite understand. Of course, she didn’t understand any of this, and she was too exhausted to question it.

Natalie wet her lips with her tongue, her throat feeling suddenly dry. They certainly were an… intimidating group of people. “I’m Natalie Brooks.”

Cassandra approached her forcefully. “What exactly were you doing in the middle of nowhere near a Fade rift?”

The Herald stepped in front of Cassandra, partially blocking her. “Cassandra, we found her bleeding out and near death. Is it truly necessary to assume everyone is a saboteur?”

“There are no settlements for miles where she was found. She was not dressed for travel in this weather, and possessed no weapon. There was no apparent reason for her to be where you discovered her.”

“I don’t know.” Natalie interrupted their exchange.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” This was from Cullen, on the other side of the table.

“I mean, I don’t know.” Natalie could feel the heat of anger creeping up the back of her neck. “I was walking home, some guy attacked me, and then I woke up here. That’s all I know.”

Haleir’s eyes softened. “It’s astounding how familiar that seems.”

Brow crinkling in confusion, she stared into his eyes waiting for him to elaborate. She was disappointed.

“Solas has informed us that you claim to be from a place none of us have heard of.” The softly accented voice came from Leliana.

“Claim?” Natalie stared at her, feeling anger reaching it’s fingers into her skull. “I don’t claim to be from anywhere. I am.”

Assessing blue eyes bored into her. “I see.”

“You obviously don’t.” Her voice lashed out. “Look, I appreciate the medical attention you have given me. But I don’t know where Thedas is. I’ve never heard of it either. It’s pretty damn obvious that i’m a long way from home. I’d just like to go back. Thanks.”

Leliana moved silently across the room to her and leaned against the table in front of her, just inches away. “Solas examined you as you were unconscious. He has… unique talents. It is his belief that the Rift you were found near pulled you from your world into this one.”

_A different… a different world?_

“We do not yet know if we can return you.”

A black haze swallowed the edges of her vision as her mind reeled with this new information. This had to be a dream. It had to be. _Sucked through a rift?_ She had a vague memory of thunder and green lightning just before everything had gone dark. The same green as the Breach.

“We will do what we can to find a way to send you home, but we have somewhat more pressing matters.” Cassandra’s brown eyes pierced through her fog. “I’m sure you saw the Breach in the sky. We’re fighting a war against it and legions of demons that keep pouring from it.”

Natalie nodded dumbly. She did understand, but it didn’t meant she had to be happy about it. Besides, she was sure she would wake up in her own bed before too long anyway.

“So what am I supposed to do until that happens, just… take a nap? Read a book? Take up underwater basket weaving?” There was no way she was going to twiddle her thumbs and wait for someone else to give her something to do. Long hours were what she was used to and she would lose her damn mind sitting around doing nothing.

The four advisors and the Herald shared an unreadable look for several moments before Cullen responded. “You were only recently wounded. Don’t you think it…”

“I feel fine. I’m used to being busy.” She rose from the chair. “I’m a nurse.” Puzzled looks made her rethink her phrasing. _What would they call it here…. healer? Yeah, probably healer. That sounds medieval-y._ “A healer. I work in emergency medicine, but I have experience in midwifery too.”

“You’re a healer?” _Don’t sound so shocked, Blondie._

Natalie nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Cullen studied her for a long moment. “Very well. You can report to Mother Giselle tomorrow.”

With a triumphant smile, Natalie inclined her head. “Absolutely. If that’s all…?”

“You are free to go. Maryella will escort you back to your cabin, and make sure you have what you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you to all that left kudos and comments. I really hope youre enjoying where this is going so far.


	4. Impossible Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am NOT a medical professional. I have tried to research the facts presented, but I could very well have things wrong. If you see something glaring, please let me know! I would love to know about it. It’s all a learning experience and I definitely don’t want something incorrect to stay.
> 
> Some dialogue was taken directly from the game.

Dark trees surrounded her, their skeletal fingers reaching into a star-filled sky. Crisp winter air bit at her nose and cheeks, sending her long, dark curls fluttering around her face. A pool of moonlight bathed the small clearing in magic as the perfect blanket of snow glittered in the darkness.

She took a step, feeling the snow crunch beneath her bare feet. A filmy dress of sheer white flowed from her body, trailing behind her and creating a soft swath of markings in the fresh powder. With her next footfall, a branch snapped, sending a resounding crack echoing through the silent forest.

A long, mournful howl of a wolf came from the distance, the sounds winding through the trees to her. The animal’s voice held such a profound sadness that she felt herself moving toward the noise. One wild soul called to another. She felt her limbs moving as if she were a marionette. Inextricably drawn to the mournful call in the darkness.

Fingertips trailing across the trees as she walked, the rough bark scratched at her skin in warning as she ventured deeper and deeper into the murky moonlit wood. Another howl. Closing her eyes, she let the sound draw her forward.

A silvery shape burst out from the bushes on her left, darting past her legs. A huge, gray wolf. A second flowed past on her right, howling in answer to the first as it brushed against her legs. Then a third, and a fourth. They continued to run, crying in a haunting chorus into the shadows.

Her heart started to beat faster as a strange urgency built in her breast.

 _Follow_.

Blood surging and feet pounding, she flew through the trees, her long dress and hair streaming out behind her. Branches reached out to snag at the fabric, and catch in her tresses. Tearing herself free, she darted forward as another long, mournful howl vibrated through her bones. More wolves ran past her. All of them answering the call.

Breathing in sharp gasps, her heart beat so hard it threatened to tear through her chest.

_Just a little further._

Thick underbrush barred her way, long thorns guarding the path like sentinels. Heedless of the danger, she crashed through. Skin and fabric parted like paper, leaving streaks of angry red behind. Branches like fingers grasped her and held. Struggling, she freed herself. Blood dripped from her pierced flesh, leaving blooms of red against the white snow.

Bursting through the last of the trees, she stopped dead at the steep bank of a massive river. Water churned and dashed against the rocks, wetting her legs with the spray. The dark flood moved swiftly, carrying great chunks of ice that crashed into the rocks. Shattering. A deafening roar filled her brain.

Across the wide expanse, a massive black wolf sat watching her with six glittering, red eyes. The intensity of the stare stripped her down into her component parts, laying her soul bare and her innermost hopes and fears open for it to see. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her pale cheeks.

Two figures stood. Opposed. Shadow and light.

Watching.

Waiting.

Its great shaggy head lifting, the black wolf let out a final long howl.

Only to be answered by one of her own.

* * *

 

Natalie woke with a start and sat straight up in her bed, a fragile dawn sending pink light through her window. Reaching up to rub the sleep from her eyes, she felt cool wetness on her cheeks. Heat crept up the back of her neck as a strangled sob clawed up her throat. The tears burst forth from her eyes as she felt the walls she had put up in her mind collapse, bit by bit. An ugly cry tore from her throat, bringing rawness with it.

Curling her knees up, she hugged them as she sobbed. Tears poured out, splashing messily over the woolen blankets. Dark stains spread on the material as her whole body shook with the force of her brittle emotions. Her despair filled up and spilled over, flowing down her face.

She wept until her face was red and blotchy. She wept until her throat was raw. She wept until she had no more tears.

As the storm passed, she pressed the heels of her palms against her throbbing eyes. A desperate attempt to relieve the building pressure behind them. Her breath came in shudders as she tried to steady it and calm her reeling mind. Pulling the edge of her sleeve across her eyes, she wiped away what remained of the dream and the unraveling of her careful fortifications.

Turning her head to gaze miserably out at the ever-brightening sky, she knew in her heart that her being in this place was no dream. She had slept and dreamt within this world. She had felt pain. Logic couldn’t explain her presence here, but beyond the impossible, somehow, is the possible.

A soft knock at the door roused her from her misery. Gathering herself, she padded across to the door to find Maryella holding a pitcher of water and a stack of clean clothes. The woman looked over her face, no doubt seeing the ravages her crying jag had caused. Lowering her eyes, Maryella handed over her burden.

“I will wait outside. If you want to freshen up, you can find me when you are ready and I will show you where you need to be.” With a slight bow, she stepped away from the door.

Natalie nodded before closing it behind her.

She quickly stripped her tear-stained robe and washed up with the pleasantly herbal scented soap Maryella had provided. She used the cool water to wash away the evidence of the morning’s outpouring. Her skin felt dry and tight, stretched too thin over her bones and muscle. She felt strangely disjointed from her own body, as if viewing it from the outside. During the bath yesterday, she had not had the presence of mind to look. No bruises marred her skin. No abrasions or cuts. Other than the pink scar of the bullet wound, there was no sign of the trauma she had endured. She didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved to have few reminders.

Covering herself in the clean clothing, she quickly left the cabin. Her thoughts feeling too big for the small space. Maryella waited outside, as promised, speaking quietly to another woman. Upon seeing her, the unfamiliar face quickly left with a small curtsey.

“Wonderful. Let’s go.”

Maryella offered her a soft smile. Sympathy reflecting in her eyes. The sight of which stirred up the first vestiges of anger. _I don’t want your pity._ Natalie swallowed the bitter feeling and simply followed.

The woman led her around the village, showing her the layout so she would be able to navigate for herself.

“Down to the right are the training grounds, as well as the blacksmith. Commander Cullen and the troops reside out there. To the left, the path leads to the Chantry, where we were yesterday. Straight ahead is the tavern and apothecary. Past that, are some of the outer fortifications and siege weapons.”

They walked forward and Natalie couldn’t help but look around wide-eyed. She had seen the town yesterday, but had been too distracted for a closer view. The small community was organized chaos. Soldiers and villagers alike bustled around, and goods and building materials were neatly stacked in piles around the walls.

“Mother Giselle and the healers tend to stick to the Chantry to treat the ill. The apothecary is just beside it.”

They approached the same stone building they had entered yesterday. _Chantry?_ The building looked very much like a church, so she assumed that was the case. She stored the information away for later.

Gazing around, she caught sight of Haleir speaking with a familiar tall, bald figure. Solas, the elf who had been in her cabin. The one with unique talents who told Leliana she was from a different world.

As Maryella stopped her to explain to her about the quartermaster, she could feel eyes on her. Glancing over her shoulder, blue eyes locked with hers. His stare was assessing. Intense. His face betrayed none of what he was thinking. Eyebrows drew together, creating a small furrow between them, as he held her gaze. _What was his problem?_

“Miss?” A voice broke through her thoughts.

“Oh, I apologize. I must have been distracted.” Natalie shook her head, trying to clear it.

“No matter. Mother Giselle is just inside.” Maryella beckoned her. Throwing one last look behind her, she followed.

 

 

* * *

Mother Giselle, as it turned out, was an enormously talented healer. Used to taking vitals and making quick assessments of patients, Natalie wasn’t accustomed to the full hands-on experience. To both prescribing and administering the treatment. She felt distinctly useless the first time that one of the Chantry sisters had corrected her on how to suture properly. But their patience and humility soothed her wounded pride, and they folded her into their ranks without complaint. At least to her face.

Her busy mind picked it all up quickly, and she had been able to impart some modern medical knowledge to the other healers. Signs and symptoms that she knew indicated a particular malady, that they hadn’t quite connected the dots for yet.

The scope of the war became abundantly clear to her as the injuries piled up in their clinic. Young soldiers suffering from all sorts of terrible injuries lay on the beds before her. _Fighting demons._ She had never seen anything like their wounds. Horrible blistered burns, and deep jagged lacerations.

Peripherally, she knew that the army was fighting some kind of… magical evil. Rifts in time and space that spewed demons and spirits out to attack them. Their Herald had some kind of glowing green mark in his hand that was supposed to close them and save the world. Skeptical nature demanded that she take all of the stories with a grain of salt. Social media was enough proof to her that people tended to grasp onto something and run with it, feeding it until it was far more than it was.

But magic. She had seen the magic. Her first day in the clinic, a mage healer had closed a slash in a young girl’s arm within seconds. The world had narrowed to a pinpoint as she watched flesh knit together. Blackness had swallowed her, and she had woken up a few minutes later to concerned faces above her as she lay on the floor. Embarrassed, she had waved them away, dusted herself off, and gotten back to work. But she had watched fascinated as the mages worked ever since.

Thankfully, they seemed to find it amusing and one young mage, Annika, had taken to giving her books on spirit magic and herbalism. The revelations in those pages astounded her. Barriers, revivals, blasting an enemy with your mind. Potions to restore health, to make your skin tough as stone, to make you resistant to cold or fire or lightning. The fantastical knowledge cramming into her skull sometimes made her head spin, and throwing herself headlong into work had the side benefit of not giving her enough time to think. The memories of home and the attack were swallowed under the familiar weariness of long days spent on her feet.

Before she knew it, she had been in Haven for a couple of weeks. Much of that had been spent either in the clinic or locked away in her cabin, reading. The atmosphere had been relatively quiet recently. The Herald had left with Solas, Cassandra and Varric the same day she had started working in the infirmary, and everyone else had doubled down on their jobs. The army was training at a fever pitch, preparing for… whatever it was they were expecting to happen. They had a lull in the action in the infirmary for a time. It seemed no new Rifts had opened nearby, and all that needed treating was a few training injuries here and there.

Natalie sat quietly in the corner of the clinic. A book on advanced barrier spells lay open on the table in front of her as she absently twirled a stray lock of dark hair around her finger. Mother Giselle and the other healers were meeting with the Quartermaster about procuring some additional rare herbs for potion making. The day seemed destined for study rather than action.

A loud commotion kicked up near the doorway. Raised voices accompanied the sound of clanking armor as two figures entered dragging a third. Shockingly white hair hung around the injured man. She realized with a start that it was Haleir, the Herald, and carrying him were Solas and Cassandra.

Abandoning her book, she hurried over to the door.

“Quick, please, put him down here and tell me what happened.”

Cassandra swung Haleir’s arm from around her shoulders and they lowered him onto the cot. “We were returning from Val Royeaux when we came upon a Fade Rift. He was pinned down by a Rage demon, and took a nasty blow to his leg.”

Natalie nodded to Cassandra, as she flagged down the young girl who carried their clean bandages from the laundry. “You, quick. Go and get Mother Giselle.”

Attention focused on the sight before her, she inspected his thigh where a large gash split his flesh open. She could see the dirt and debris caught in the blood dried to the edges. No signs of fresh, flowing blood.

Taking in Haleir’s pale but stoic face, she grimaced apologetically. “This may hurt. Here.” A piece of elfroot passed into his hands, which he promptly began to chew.

After washing her hands in a nearby basin, she yanked at the cut edges of Haleir’s pants until the pant leg came away from the wound down. Pouring clean water over it, she used a fresh cloth to clean the dried blood and detritus away. Groans of pain floated to her ears as his thigh muscles clenched. As she started to go back with her cloth, he jerked his leg away.

“I know it hurts. But it needs to be cleaned properly.” She stared into his pale eyes for a moment before he swallowed hard and nodded at her. Flushing the wound with clean, clear water, she carefully examined to make sure nothing was left stuck inside.

Her focus narrowed as she worked, clearing out small bits of dirt and gravel, and flushing everything again. Taking up a spool of smooth, sturdy thread and a wickedly curved needle, she looked to the two standing near.

“You may want to hold him for this part.” Stern faces met her as they both took hold of Haleir, Cassandra at his shoulders and Solas at his legs, and held him down.

Slowly, she stitched the inches long gash closed. Metal and thread sliding with sickening ease through flesh. Spots of bright red blood welled up around the knots. Haleir’s tendons stood out along his neck as he struggled to keep still, gasps and groans tearing from his throat. As the row of neat black stitches grew, his wound gradually closed. Before long, she double-knotted the last suture and sat back, her shoulders aching from bending over in concentration.

“All done.”

Haleir looked up at her gratefully. If that emotion was for the medical treatment or the fact that she was done with it, she couldn’t tell. She gave him a small smile.

Just as she reached for the elfroot salve and bandages, Mother Giselle swept in, followed by a large group of the other healers and Chantry sisters. “Herald! Let me take a look!”

Not minding the interruption, Natalie stood up to make room for the older woman. The space suddenly seemed too small for all the people standing in it. Taking advantage of the distraction caused by the new arrivals, she gratefully slipped out of the clinic, taking up a place beside the door.

Sweet fresh air filled her lungs as the winter sun warmed her face. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the wall. Suddenly, all her long days seemed to bear down on her.

“That was most impressive to watch.”

The smooth voice broke through her tiredness. Solas had followed her outside, and stood not two feet away.

Natalie peered up at him with one eye open. “I just stitched a cut. It’s really not that special.”

“Yes, but you have exceptional focus and attention to detail. I have not had many opportunities to watch non-magical healing performed. It was… fascinating.”

For the first time since meeting him, she noticed the staff strapped to his back. _He’s a mage. Did he have that before?_ Feeling somewhat silly at the oversight, she rubbed a hand along the back of her neck.

“I… ah… thanks?” She felt her cheeks heating up.

He chuckled at her embarrassment, low in his throat. “You are welcome.”

She felt herself overcome by curiosity about him. The other mages in the clinic were all humans. “What is your magical specialty?” She blurted, and then felt her cheeks color even more. “I mean, I’ve been reading up on spirit magic. We don’t have any magic at all where I’m from, and I can’t help but be mildly obsessed with the subject.”

The look on his face was somewhat flummoxed. “I have to admit surprise at your interest.”

“Please, I would genuinely like to hear about it.”

“I am a rift mage, and I cultivate a special connection with the Fade itself. In dreams, I can journey deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.”

“That’s amazing. You can literally watch history happen.” She had never heard of anything like this before. Her brain spun with a thousand questions.

“Yes. Walking the Fade to find the remnant of a thousand year old dream does hold a certain appeal. It is not as flashy as throwing lightning, but I would not trade it for the world.”

“I would absolutely love to know more about it.”

Hands clasped in front of her, she smiled at him. The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile in return, as he inclined his head toward her. “I would be glad to share it.”

The intensity she remembered from the courtyard the day he had left returned as their eyes met for a long moment.

“Natalie!”

The sound of her name jolted her away from the wall as Annika hurried from inside the Chantry. “Mother Giselle wants to speak with you.”

“Tell her I will be right here.” Feet carrying her past him to the doors of the Chantry, she stopped for a moment to look up at him. “Thank you for the chat. I enjoyed it.”

“Please, feel free to find me if you have more questions.”

She laughed, eyes sparkling. “Be careful what you wish for. Goodbye, Solas.”

Natalie went back into the Chantry, leaving him standing outside staring thoughtfully as she walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question. I had intended to write this fic 100% from Natalie’s POV. After writing the dream sequence, I find myself with an itch to switch it up a bit. Do you want me to continue it just from her POV? Or Solas? Someone else?
> 
> Again, thank you to those of you who have left kudos and comments. It is greatly appreciated!


	5. Snow Angels

The tinkling sound of glass against glass rang in the air as Natalie wiped down bottles of potions and salves and placed them back on their shelf. Labels all facing outward neatly. Stretching her aching arms after the last bottle sat with its brethren, she glanced around the clinic. A few Chantry sisters milled about, speaking softly. Mother Giselle and one of the mages were huddled over a bed in the far corner, treating an unfortunate man whose arm had been frozen by ice magic and then shattered. The young laundress was stripping soiled linens from the cots and bundling them into a basket to be washed.

The scene was a far cry from what it had been earlier. Wagons bearing refugees from the Hinterlands had arrived in the wee hours of the morning, fleeing the still spiking tensions in the area. Natalie had been roused just before dawn to drag her tired bones in to help. She had been on her feet since, tending to the elderly, infirm, and expecting. Now, the sun was nodding off to sleep behind the mountains, casting a red haze over the valley, and the clinic was quiet.

“Finishing up?”

Natalie’s body jolted, the jars in the shelf rattling as her shoulder hit rough wood.

“Whoa! Slow down, there. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

She turned to find a familiar, grinning dwarf.

“God, Varric. You scared me.” Clutching a hand to her chest, she laughed at herself.

“Long time, no see, Bunny.”

Her eyebrows bunched together. “Bunny?”

“Yeah, because you’re jumpy like one.” His hearty laughter rang out in the quiet room.

Natalie chuckled awkwardly, less than amused by his descriptor. “Sure, if you say so.”

“Heard you patched up Lucky yesterday.”

 _More nicknames. Hilarious._ “The Herald? Yes, he was hauled into here yesterday bleeding all over. I felt compelled to help out, since the poor girl who mops the floor looked ready to faint.”

More laughter. “Indeed. He does tend to bleed all over the place.”

“Yes, well…” Her stomach let out a loud, gurgling growl, interrupting her statement.

“Have you eaten today?”

She let out a bark of laughter. “When do I have time to eat? We had a hundred refugees come through today.”

“Come on. I’m going to buy you dinner at the Singing Maiden.” He laid a hand on the back of her arm to scoot her towards the door.

“Oh, I’m fine. I was…”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I have it on good authority that you’ve done nothing but work in here and stay holed up alone in your cabin since you got here. I insist.”

Sighing heavily, Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. “How am I even remotely interesting enough to spy on?”

“Bunny, you dropped out of a Rift in the middle of nowhere. You’re plenty interesting. Now, get moving.”

Rolling her eyes, Natalie untied the strings of her apron and tossed the stained fabric into a nearby basket. Smoothing her hands down the front of her pale blue dress, she looked around to the other healers. She met the eye of one of them and nodded to her in farewell.

“Alright, Shortstack. Let’s go.”

Varric let out a whoop of surprised laughter and looped his arm through hers. “Sure thing, Bunny.”

The sun had given up and set by the time they left the infirmary. Haven was quiet, empty of the streams of people that normally flowed through. The lamps had been lit, bathing the pathways in flickering firelight. Faint strains of music and laughter floated on the air as they wandered the path from Chantry to tavern.

Natalie found herself with a sinking pit in her stomach as the shadows loomed with grasping fingers toward her. She had been careful to return home before sunset every other night, lighting every lamp she could find once she arrived at her little cabin. Darkness seemed to close in on her when it fell, leaving her with a sick fear she couldn’t shake.

The shadows wavered in the flickering light, casting horrors on the ground. Heaviness enveloped her as the air pressed in. Panic rose in her chest. Feet quickening, she hurried toward the tavern in the hope that she could reach the safety of the bright lights and noise before the dread took over. Movement caught her eye, a flash in her peripheral vision.

A scream bubbling up in her throat, she stumbled backward, hitting something solid.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Varric’s hands were gentle as he pressed against her shoulders to keep her from crushing him.

Natalie’s breath came in pants, her hands shaking. _Nothing. There is nothing there._

“Do I need to shoot something?” His casual tone was contradicted by the look on concern in his eyes.

Shaking her head, Natalie drew in a quivering breath to steady her nerves. “No. I’m just being silly.” Her voice was thick around the lump in her throat. “Just jumping at shadows.”

Looking around, the night was still. A glint of white in the underbrush caught her eye. Scraps of paper, caught in the barren winter branches. Nothing more.

Lips set in a thin line, she took up his arm again. “Let’s go get a damn drink.”

“Sure.”

A warm hand came down to rest over hers. Shame burned in her chest. _Jumping at a piece of paper. Get your shit together, Natalie._

Noise spilled into the night as Varric opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. Music. Drunken laughter. Singing voices, slightly off key. Natalie had yet to stop in during the off hours when the tavern was full, and it was a sure sight more boisterous now that she had ever seen it before. The room was filled with people. She recognized a couple of the refugees, sitting at a table of soldiers in Inquisition garb. Raucous laughter filtered from the bar, where a young man stood on a chair telling a bawdy story to a group of fellows.

“Varric!”

“Hey!” Varric threw his arms out wide with a huge grin on his face. “And I brought company!”

At a table in the corner, Haleir sat with a young elven woman wearing the ugliest pair of plaid pants Natalie had ever seen. Haleir looked as well as she had ever seen him, his cheeks flushed red from merriment and too much mead.

“Natalie Brooks!” A grin split his face, crinkling the black branches etches around the corners of his eyes.

She smiled at him. “It’s nice to see you without all the blood, Herald.”

“Yes, your tender minstrations fixed that up for me. And a mage healed it all up after.”

“I convinced her to come join us for dinner instead of acting like a hermit in her cabin.” Varric urged her along to sit down.

“Fantastic! Come and sit!”

Natalie took a seat on the bench next to him, sliding across the wood. The small figure across from her studied her, somewhat skeptical from beneath her blonde bangs.

“Natalie, this is Sera. We pulled her from the gutter in Val Royeaux.” Haleir grinned teasingly at the elven girl.

“Oi, better the gutter than here with Lady Bitchy FancyBritches and His Royal Elfiness, innit?”

“Oh hush, you love it here.”

“Drinks!” Varric bellowed, gesturing to the serving girl.

Mugs of foaming ale appeared before them, delivered by the smiling tavern owner.

“Flissa, my love! You're an angel.” Varric seized the mug and drank deeply.

“Slow down, I don’t want to be carrying you out of here tonight.” Flissa winked at him before walking away.

The heavy ale bit at the back of her tongue as she took a long drink. Cold and crisp and _strong_. She let out a little cough, much to Varric’s amusement. His laughter reddened her cheeks as she shook her head and continued drinking.

“Are you ready to leave in the morning, Herald?” Varric’s mug clanked down empty on the table in front of him as he spoke.

Haleir grimaced. “As ready as I will ever be.”

“You all are leaving again already?” Natalie was surprised. The group had only returned the previous evening, and Haleir was recently injured.

“Yes, nothing to be done about it. We’re off to Redcliffe to meet with the Grand Enchanter. We’re trying to persuade the mages to assist us in closing the Breach.” Haleir’s voice was resigned.

“Do you not think they will?” The Breach was terrifying and Natalie couldn’t imagine it not being a priority for anyone.

“It’s not that I think they will refuse to help, I just worry if they’re the best option.”

“Let me guess. Curly had some very choice words to say on the subject.” Varric snorted.

“I’m sure you can imagine what they were, considering.” Haleir matched the snort with one of his own.

Natalie looked between them. “Why would he be against it?”

Varric looked at her, momentarily stunned, before replying. “I keep forgetting you’re not from around here, Bunny. Our dear Commander was a Templar, and he has a long history in regards to the mages.”

“I see.” She didn’t see at all.

“Let’s just say that mages weren’t free to roam too much until recently. Templars have historically been tasked with hunting apostate mages and guarding those in the circle towers. There are some deep biases between the two groups.”

“The system was not without its abuses. There is a lot of bad blood. That’s part of the root of the issue in the Hinterlands.” Haleir sighed wearily. “In any case, we’re off to speak with the rebel mages. Hopefully, it goes smoothly and we can get this damn hole in the sky closed. We’re also stopping in the Storm Coast on the way back to speak to a mercenary group that is interested in joining.”

“Sounds like a packed schedule. Well, best of luck with all that.” Natalie replied.

A sound of irritation left his throat as Haleir took another drink.

“Alright, enough talk about this mage shite.” Sera interrupted. “Buncha idiots blowing shit up and causing trouble.”

“Eh, well, I can’t say that isn’t true.” Varric replied, deflated. A strange shadow passing over his face.

Frosted glasses appeared before them at regular intervals as they sat and enjoyed Flissa’s superb meat pies. A pleasant buzz of numbness danced across Natalie’s fingertips, spreading into a warm haze. She felt her head nod sideways as she listened to Sera and Varric have a heated argument about the merits of crossbow versus longbow. The two rogues were diametrically opposed on the issue, each insisting that their method was faster and more accurate.

“Pfft. As if that _thing_ takes skill. Just point and shoot.”

“Point and shoot? _Bianca_ takes immense skill to operate.”

“And you named it. Who names their bow? That’s stupid.” Sera nose scrunched in disgust.

“Well, this one is one of a kind.”

A dull throb rippled across her forehead, heralding the killer hangover she was sure to have in the morning. Natalie felt a pang of regret for the lost days of her youth when she didn’t get hungover in the middle of drinking. She refocused on the conversation at hand, amused at the heated rivalry.

“I guarantee Bianca is more accurate than you are.” Varric threw the words down like a gauntlet.

Sera stood abruptly from the table and pointed her finger in Varric’s face. “You’re on.”

Haleir chuckled as he watched Sera stalk out of the tavern, with Varric following. Grabbing Natalie’s hand, he yanked on her arm.

“We’re not going to miss this.”

Natalie felt herself propelled along, out of the tavern and into the night. Varric and Sera were arguing ahead of them. Her body felt loose, and her head swam.

“Are they always like this?”

A low chuckle came from the darkness beside her. “Sera is a new addition, but yes… so far. The journey back from Val Royeaux was an interesting one, especially with Solas along to rile Sera even more.”

They walked along the path toward the far trebuchet. Legs wobbling, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the cool night air on her heated skin. She felt light for the first time in weeks, the blanket of shock and homesickness lifted for a brief moment. Relief. The giggles began as bubbles in her stomach, fizzing up her throat to escape in a rush. Spinning in a quick circle, she let her arms fly away from her sides. The absence of heavy emotion making her feel like flying.

Suddenly tripping over her own feet, she landed laughing on her behind on the ground. Haleir stood over her, his brow creased and a smile quirking the side of his mouth.

“Are you alright?” His hand extended out to her.

“I’m great.” Her reply came between bursts of giggles.

Skin against skin, her hand met his as she slid her palm into his. With a strong pull, she yanked him forward. Haleir fell unceremoniously to the ground beside her, sprawling in a graceless heap.

“What was that for?” He spluttered.

“Doesn’t the ground seem so much more comfortable than standing?”

“Not particularly. There is snow on it.”

With a laugh, she flopped on her back, stretching her limbs out. “When life gives you snow, make snow angels.”  
  
The look she received in return was dubious as he folded one leg up and rested his arm bearing the mysterious anchor on it, pale green light glowing in the darkness. She found herself intensely curious about this mark that had the power to close the rifts.

Sitting up, she scooted closer to him. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head and held his palm out to her. Natalie nestled his hand in hers. A crooked line of glowing green blazed in the center of his palm beneath the surface. Running her fingers over it, she felt the smooth unbroken skin. The light flared under her touch. Such a small thing to hold such power.

“I don’t know what I was expecting. Does it hurt?”

Pulling his hand back with a shrug, Haleir stared off into the sky. “It did at first. Before the Breach was stabilized, it would flare and the pain would be enough to bring me to my knees. It’s not so bad now.”

“They said you don’t know how you ended up with it.”

“It’s funny. This mark has changed my entire life. I’m from a Dalish clan. We are the elves that still honor the old ways. I don’t believe in the shem gods, and yet I am somehow the symbol of one of them now.” He stared down at his hand. “All because of this thing. A mark I don’t even remember getting.”

“That must be very hard.”

“I am still me. I don’t know if I can be this… hero they want me to be. I’m just a Dalish hunter.”

“No one is born a hero, Herald.” Natalie rested her head on his shoulder. “The fact that you’re even here, helping, makes you one.”

“I don’t think helping to close a hole in the sky that is threatening to destroy the world is heroic. It’s self-preservation.”

“That may be, but there are people who would have run scared at the first opportunity. Especially since I heard that you were held prisoner after the explosion. You’ve stayed, and you’re doing the best you can. I think you should give yourself credit for that.”

“Thank you.”

A weight settled against her head, long white strands of hair falling across her face. Faint sounds of continued argument filtered across the open area to them as they sat in the snow, watching the night sky. Simple companionship shared between two souls torn away from the lives they had known. Gradually, the cold soaked through the warm haze of ale and a shiver whispered across her skin. Awareness returned, and her frozen limbs protested the climate.

“Come on. I’ll walk you back to your cabin.” His voice was soft, thoughtful.

Unfolding herself from the ground, they walked in silence to her door. Natalie turned to him as she put a hand on the door knob.

“Have a safe trip tomorrow. Please don’t come back bleeding again. I have a one patch up per month policy.”

Haleir laughed. “I’ll do my best. I’d hate to ask you to break your own rules.”

“I don’t break rules. You’ll just have to bleed.”

With a grin, she left him standing there and went inside. The cabin was warm as she readied herself for bed, slipping her weary body into the sheets as the room spun.

The sound of howling wolves echoed in her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much to those who have left comments and kudos. The feedback I have gotten has been great!


	6. Little Fall of Rain

Morning dawned with shimmering hues of rosy pink and soft yellow, painting murals on the snow. The barest hint of bright sunlight peered over the mountains as Solas rose and dressed to greet the day. Haven was just beginning to awaken as he made his way to the stables, the stillness of the cold morning broken by the faint noise of clanking weaponry and the smell of wood smoke.

Cassandra was already waiting with the horses when he arrived. Her strong face was tired, but set in hard lines. The strain of the constant travel was beginning to wear a little on all of them, he knew. 

“Greetings, Seeker.”

“Good morning, Solas.”

“Who are we waiting on this morning?” 

“Varric, and the Herald.” Her face broke into a slight sneer. He knew that she and the dwarf had been involved in a conflict that predated the Breach, but he had never been able to fully ascertain what it was. Only that Cassandra seemed to have great disdain for their resident storyteller.

“Ah, indeed. I am sure they will be along presently.”

Silence fell as they waited, the crisp air biting at his cheeks beneath his hooded cloak. Smooth wood was cool beneath his fingers as he leaned against his staff. Commander Rutherford emerged from his tent, rubbing his eyes, and started barking orders at a group of soldiers. The man seemed in a particularly foul mood this morning, the shadows behind his eyes growing with each passing day.

“Morning!” 

Varric’s voice cut through the dawn stillness as he came down the path to the stables, the Herald a few steps behind. The elven man seemed paler than usual, his black vallaslin standing out stark against his pale skin and hair. Lines of strain were etched around his mouth.

“Herald, does the Anchor trouble you?” He felt sure that it did far more than the younger man said.

“Ha! No, the aftermath of Flissa’s fine ale does.” Varric chuckled and clapped Haleir firmly on the back before moving to secure his packs to his horse.

Haleir’s face pinched as he sent a withering glare at Varric and rubbed his forehead with his unmarked hand.

“If you  _ gentleman _ are finished, we should be on our way.” 

Cassandra made a noise of disgust in her throat, shouldering past them to mount her horse. Swinging up in a single motion, she turned and stared down at them expectantly. Solas admired the single-minded determination she applied to every task in which she embarked.

The remainder of the party mounted and soon the company was trekking the roads south out of Haven as the sun rose steadily into the sky, alighting the snowy terrain with glittering motes. Moving steadily downward out of the mountains, the snow gradually lessened and stubborn green shrubbery reared its head.

Low moans came from Haleir as he sat slumped over in his saddle. A twinge of sympathy for his miserable state was quickly overtaken by certainty that the elf was old enough to know better than to imbibe so heavily just before a journey. 

“How’s your head, Herald?” Merriment was apparent in Varric’s voice.

“Full of stampeding halla, if you must know.”

Peals of laughter soared out as Varric held his side.

“If you could quiet down a bit, that would be greatly appreciated.” Haleir shot him a tired but furious look.

“Yes,  _ Varric _ . Not all of us want to be subject to your particular brand of wit.” Cassandra spat.

“Aww, Seeker. I’m wounded.” 

Solas could see her roll her eyes even though he rode behind her. 

“Where did you go last night, Lucky? One minute you were getting all cozy with Bunny, and the next the two of you were gone.”

“ _ Varric.”  _ The warning was clear in the elf’s voice.

“Bunny? Who was unfortunate enough to earn that one?” Cassandra asked.

“Natalie, the healer. The one who came through the Rift.” Haleir snapped. “And we were not  _ getting cozy. _ ”

Solas felt a jolt of surprise at his words. Visions of dark, curling hair and intelligent, mossy green eyes wide as she looked up at him came to mind. ” _ That’s amazing.” “I would absolutely love to know more.” _ He had sat with her for several days after they had found her in the snow on their way back to Haven from the Crossroads, slowly feeding her mana to help her heal as Mother Giselle and the Chantry sisters had cleaned and bandaged her. Survival had been little more than a distant hope. 

It had been a horrific sight to come upon. A small figure with skin as pale as the snow, broken and twisted on the unforgiving ground. Once bright blood now dark and congealed leaving hideous, spreading stains on the pristine landscape. Green fire blazing from the rift above her. After somewhat of a struggle to close the Rift, Cassandra had tied her against his back and she had lain up against him as he used his magic to keep her breathing on the hours long ride back to Haven. The coat he had been wearing was completely ruined, the back soaked in dark brown stains.

The human woman had proven intriguing enough that he had sought her out in the Fade, hoping to get a glimpse into her head. He had found her dressed in angelic white, running through the forest with a pack of silvery wolves. The sight had worried at his mind for days.

“Is that right? What would you call that then?” Varric’s words broke through his train of thought.

“She was curious about the Anchor, so I let her look at it. We were just talking.”

“Yeah. On the ground. With her head on your shoulder.”

“She fell! And then she pulled me down when I tried to help her up!” Bright, embarrassed color stained the Herald’s cheeks. 

Varric burst out laughing again, his head thrown back.

“Varric, I am aware you are just trying to get a rise out of me. But, I can assure you, it was not whatever you think it was. She was just being a friend. And she was… not herself.”

“Drunk. The word you’re looking for is drunk.”

“Would the two of you stop the chatter? Especially about someone who is not here to defend herself.” Cassandra’s voice was sharp, brooking no argument.

Varric and the Herald exchanged a sideways look, each with a corner of their mouth crooked up. 

Solas considered their conversation, feeling a nagging of some unfamiliar emotion in the back of his mind. 

* * *

Spirits floated nearby as he entered the Fade that night from the quiet of his tent. The atmosphere was quiet around him, enveloping him in a sense of peace. Solas found his feet carrying him north before he even truly realized that was where he was heading. A distant song caught his attention, called to him.

So he walked. Bare skin met loamy ground as his toes dug into the soil, propelling him ever forward. The trees thickened into a forest. Pine and evergreen reached fragrant branches high into the sky. Trails of brilliant sunlight filtered between the boughs, catching the floating dust until it filled the air with glimmering particles. The clean scent of wet earth filled his nose. Through the trees, a melody hung in the air. Notes as sweet as birdsong. Light as air.

Curious, he roamed past the lines of trees, allowing the music to draw him in. 

The tinkling of water caught his ear. A splash, and soft laughter following after. Ducking beneath the low hanging branches, he moved silently. His feet falling softly on the cool ground. The soft, lilting voice pulled at something inside, tugging at the loose ends. Threatening to unravel his carefully constructed net. Goosebumps spread along his flesh, the small hairs on his arms raising. A shiver racing down his spine.

He saw the stream first, a gentle babbling brook. Water flowing and bubbling shallowly over the rocks. Tiny fish leaping in the gathering pools. The banks sloping gently into the crystal clear water. It flowed past him, leading him onward. Inviting.

The honeyed voice swelled as he trekked along the streambed, the trees gradually thinning. He closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace sweet within him with the song. The voice was not perfect, but something was carried within it that called to his spirit.

“ _ And rain will make the flowers grow.” _

Trees turned into a small clearing blanketed in a field of wildflowers. A riot of spring color and innocent beauty. Babbling water cut across it, lending it’s cheerful voice to the one coming from within the tall grass. He waded through, legs brushing past velvet petals and frothing foliage that whispered against his leggings.

All at once, the voice came to an abrupt end. Rustling could be heard from near the stream as a dark head popped up out of the grass. 

A dark head that he recognized in an instant. A dark head he had spent many days watching sleep, fearing for her life. Her eyes were wide, almost scared, as she looked around. Her curls lay wet against her head, streaming down her chest and back in sodden tendrils. Tiny white flowers dotted the length at intervals.

She turned and her eyes locked with his. A look of surprise passed across her face, coloring her cheeks pink. 

“Oh.” The sound escaped her lips softly, little more than breath.

Solas felt his body still, brain whirring as he tried to decide how to address her. He realized now that he was likely intruding on a moment she may not want to share.

She rose on wobbling legs, emerging from the grass slowly. Still clad in the white dress he had seen her in before, the filmy fabric was damp and clinging in patches. Arms folded over her stomach protectively.

‘Ir abelas. I meant no intrusion.”

“I.. it’s alright.”

“I was drawn in by mysterious singing in the woods. I can only assume it was you, and not some echo luring me to my doom. Perhaps you would share the song with me?”

Uncertainty drew her eyebrows together. “It’s from a play.” She huffed a small laugh, looking sheepish. “And honestly really depressing. I don’t know why I thought of it.”

“Your voice is lovely.”

The pink tinge in her cheeks reddened a shade. “Ah, thank you.” 

She studied him intently, her eyes narrowed. Her feet carried her forward a hesitant step, and then another. Peering up at him, her look bored into him. 

“Who are you?”

Taken aback by her question, Solas realized that he still wore his traveling cloak. The deep hood obscuring his face. 

“I am he who hunts alone.” It felt like a chance, a dangerous one. One he might regret taking. 

“What a strange name.” She smiled, her face bright with humor as the sunlight filtered through the trees and kissed her skin. “That must be… lonely.” 

Another step forward. She stood a mere foot away now, and he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. The clean, sweet smell of fresh lavender wafted from her hair.

“It is something I am long accustomed to. I have spent years beyond counting wandering with none to keep my counsel save my own thoughts.”

“Well, Lone Ranger, I hope you find someone to walk beside you soon. No one deserves to be alone.”

She took the final step, closing the distance between them. Slim fingers took his hand, wrapping it in her much smaller ones. Warmth kissed his skin, spreading across his palm and up his arm. A serene smile graced her face as she ran her fingertips along his hand.

Raising to her toes, her lips brushed against his jaw. Fleeting. Ephemeral. Sending shivers across his skin. Stepping back, she unfolded her hands to reveal a small pink bud resting in his palm. 

She pursed her lips and blew a small stream of air across the flower. Petals unfurled slowly. Peeling away to expose the sunny yellow heart of the bloom. Releasing a soft fragrance into the air.

Shock blanked his mind. Had she just… had she just manipulated the Fade?  _ Impossible _ . She was a human. Not even a mage.

With a saucy wink, she moved away from him. “For good luck.” Then words were tossed over her shoulder.

The words broke free of the hold on his thoughts. “How did you accomplish making it bloom?”

Her head tilted slightly to the side, a curious smile on her face

“This is my dream, isn’t it? It can be whatever I want it to be.”

A hard yank at his navel pulled him away before he could reply or process her statement. The clearing fading abruptly into darkness.

* * *

“Up, Chuckles. Your watch.”

A gravely dwarven voice replaced the feminine one he had been conversing with. Solas sat up, his hand rubbing down his face and up over his head. He felt groggy. Disoriented. Unused to being pulled so forcefully from the Fade.

Heaving a weary sigh, he reached for his staff to go take his place for the watch.

A small, pink blossom fluttered to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All! I hope you enjoyed a slight change of pace. I dont know how often I’m going to write from another POV. Solas is a tricky bastard and I want to leave him some mystery.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has kudosed, commented, or bookmarked this story. I’m seriously so grateful to you all. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	7. Hide and Seek

The arrival of the giant Qunari and his band of mercenaries caused quite a stir in Haven. The day had started out uneventful enough. Natalie was leaving the Chantry, headed to the Singing Maiden for a much needed lunch break, when a pair of massive horns suddenly filled her vision. Stopping dead, she watched in awe as the colossal, bare-chested body appeared, coming up the pathway toward her. The sight left her momentarily stunned, staring slack-jawed in amazement as he approached her. 

_ I didn’t know they came that size. Holy cow. _

A shadow fell over her face as she realized that she was just standing in the middle of the path with her mouth open. Looking up into his scarred face, she felt a blush start at her chest and move clear to her hairline. Lobster red was apparently her color lately. 

“See something you like?” He winked with the eye not covered with a patch, a smug grin on his face. 

She couldn't seem to form words. “I… um….”

“Its okay. I get that a lot.” He laughed. “The Iron Bull.”

_ Not hard to see where that name came from. _

Unable to gather herself enough to respond, Natalie simply nodded as she turned and fled back the way she came. Loud laughter followed her. 

From that day on, avoiding him had become a second job. Utterly humiliated by her reaction, she couldn't seem to bring herself to face him again. From his sly looks, she knew that he was aware of what she was doing. She had never been especially sneaky.

He caught her once, while she was walking back to her cabin with her nose firmly planted in The Tale of the Champion. A huge form moving at the edges of her vision had caused her to look up, spying him coming toward her. Some quick, and wholly illogical, thinking found her ducking behind the nearest cabin, back pressed against the wall with her heart pounding. 

_ Get yourself together, Nat. This is getting out of hand. _

After four days of dodging Bull and his cohorts, her nerves were frayed and on edge. When the chance to be gone from Haven for a few hours to gather elfroot for healing potions came along, she jumped at it. Snatching up the proffered basket from Mother Giselle’s arms, she donned her long coat and gloves and headed gleefully out the front gates whistling a happy tune. Natalie passed the training ground as she walked from Haven into the trees. The tall, blonde Commander paused to look over his shoulder as she went. Nodding her head in his direction, she swept past him, eager to leave the company behind.

The path ahead was clear of people. Just blissful silence and birdsong. Still whistling a jaunty little tune, she spotted a patch of elfroot. She had studied the drawing in one of the books in the clinic twice before coming out here, to be sure she knew what she was looking for. Kneeling, she could feel the cool snow on her knees through her woolen skirt. Her fingers dug into the soft snow, clearing it away from the roots of the plant so she could cut down near it’s pale green base. A sharp clean scent filled her nose as the plant fell beneath her knife.

Once one patch was safely tucked away in her basket, she wandered further. Stopping periodically to cut more of the leafy plant and store it away. Quickly, her basket was filled brimming with the fresh cut stalks. She slowed her pace, taking the time to breath deeply and enjoy her surroundings. Clean, sweet mountain air filled her lungs. 

_ The air never smells like this in Chicago. _

Pounding hoofbeats came from behind her, startling her out of her thoughts. Whirling around, Natalie spied several riders rounding the corner. She sidestepped off the path, hoping she wouldn’t get trampled by the fast approaching group.

“Bunny!” A gruff shout came from atop a large, brown gelding. 

Realization dawned on her as she took in the dwarf, and the white haired elf at their lead. 

“Varric!” She called. “You guys are back!” She waved her free hand high in the air.

The party slowed, Haleir before her with Varric, Cassandra, Solas and two unfamiliar faces behind him. 

“How was Redcliffe? Find what you were looking for?” The sun glinted in her eyes. She raised one hand to shade them, and peered at them from beneath it.

“Oh, we found a lot more than we went for.” Haleir sounded tired, resigned.

“Oh?”

“Redcliffe has been overtaken by a Tevinter Magister who thinks using magic to distort time is a good idea.” Varric’s face was serious, devoid of it’s usual charm.

“Yes, I could see how that would be a problem.” Natalie’s stomach fluttered.  _ Time magic. That’s terrifying… and incredible. _

_ “ _ We also found Dorian,” he gestured to a dark, mustachioed man behind him, “and Blackwall, a Grey Warden, in the Hinterlands on the way back. They’re here to help the cause.”

Natalie gave the two newcomers a little wave.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could stay and talk, but I have to deliver a report to the others.” Haleir replied.

“Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

Haleir nodded. “I’ll come find you later. Maybe we can share a meat pie again.”

“I’d love that.” Her face broke into a wide smile.

With a nod, he pressed his knees into the horse’s sides and tore off down the road to Haven with the others following. 

Natalie heard a crack and felt something fall on her feet. She looked down to find the handle of the basket snapped, and her harvest all over the ground.

“Great.” She muttered, bending to gather the fallen stems.

“Let me assist you.” A calm voice came from above her.

Startled, she jumped back and whipped her head up to find Solas standing a couple of feet away.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she gathered her wits. “Good lord, you scared the crap out of me.” 

“Ir abelas. I did not meant to startle you.”

His words nagged at her mind. She had heard the phrase before, but she couldn’t quite place where. “What does that mean?”

“What are you referring to?”

“Ir abelas. I’ve heard that phrase before.”

A strange look passed over his angular face, confusion and… interest, maybe? “It is Elvhen. It means ‘I sorrow’, or more commonly ‘I’m sorry’.”

“Ir abelas.” She rolled the words over her tongue. The flow of the syllables was lovely, unlike any language she had heard before. “Thank you for the explanation.” A smile split her face.

He inclined his head slightly. “You are welcome.”

Voice smooth as silk, the mellow tones seemed more like a caress. His eyes locked with hers, warm behind the icy color. The air took on a heavy quality, filling with a strange tension that made flutters in her stomach. Her breathing hitched in her throat. She felt the oddest urge to reach out and run her fingers along his face, to see if his skin felt as smooth as it looked. Shocked by the sudden change of atmosphere, Natalie looked down at her feet, needing to do something to break the building pressure inside her.

“Oh! The elfroot!” 

Bending quickly, she began to sweep the fallen plants into a pile and bundle them into the hem of her coat. Fingers reached out, nimbly plucking the greenery from the ground. The light dusting of freckles caught her eye as she watched him collect them. Soon, the small plants were all stacked neatly into her hem and tied into a bundle. Natalie stood, dusting her gloves off on her coat. 

“How would I say ‘thank you’?” 

A sudden lightness flickered across his face. “You would say ‘ma serannas’.”

“Ma serannas.” She repeated the words, trying to commit them to memory. “Well, ma serannas, Solas.”

“Sathem lasa halani, Natalie.” A soft smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “That means ‘pleased to give assistance’.” 

Natalie laughed. “Well, I’m glad you can read my mind, because I was about to ask.”

“Oh, I don’t pretend to be able to read your mind, da’len, as much as I would like to.” Eyes sparkling, he motioned his arm toward the road. “Shall I walk with you back to Haven?”

“Absolutely. It will give me a chance to ask you the approximately one thousand questions I have about magic.”

With a chuckle, Solas gestured for her to walk ahead. She smiled at him, feeling strangely shy. As they walked, she peppered him with questions about magic. The difference in the different elemental types. How it felt to use magic for healing, and how you could tell when you had done all you could. The differing methods used for creating barriers that could withstand hostile magic. How he entered the Fade, and what it looked and felt like to walk through the memories of spirits.

“So you have a physical body there? Like, you are present within whatever you are seeing?”

“Some of the time. I can speak to and interact with spirits in the Fade, and often do. Other occasions, I prefer to simply be an observer.”

“And could you affect the outcome of the memory you are seeing? Like, could you save someone from being stabbed, or from falling from a building or something?”

“I suppose I could, if I wanted to. But I enjoy seeking memories in the Fade not to change the event, but to learn from it.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she mumbled in assent. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

“Indeed.” His voice was soft.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Natalie peered up at him from her peripheral vision, studying his profile. His face was angular, jaw chiseled. His long, pointed ears elegant in their lines. She could see the shadow of darkness on his scalp where it was scraped smooth, and the dusting of light freckles across his face. The sum of the parts added up to an alien whole, but one she found oddly appealing. 

He shifted to look down at her, catching her staring. With an amused smile, he paused to turn fully toward her. 

“Is there something on my face?”

Natalie smiled boldly. “Not at all. I was just admiring it.” 

One brown brow lifted slightly, a soft wing above his eye. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” 

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze full on. She could feel his scrutiny on her, spreading heat across her skin. Squaring her shoulders, her eyes challenged him. They stood a mere couple feet apart, but Natalie made it closer. Stepping forward, she closed the gap without breaking his gaze. She felt his awareness down to her soul, trailing warm dizziness with it. Feeling the dryness of her lips, she wet them with the tip of tongue. His gaze shifted to her mouth.

_ Yes. _

A crash from the underbrush sent her flying into his chest. With a gasp, she turned to see a nug bursting through the snowy bushes. Her heart beat fiercely, pumping adrenaline. Her breath left her in shaky spurts. Gradually, she became aware of the heat against her body, and the warm woolen fabric clutched in her fingers. Realizing that she had him in a death grip, she quickly released the front of his tunic and stepped away.

“Oh man. I’m so sorry for accosting you like that. That’s so embarrassing.”

“No need to be sorry. Nugs can be quite terrifying creatures.”

“Apparently.” Letting out a whuff of laughter, she shook her head at herself and patted her front to make sure that the elfroot was still tied securely in her hem. “We should get back to Haven.”

They continued the rest of the way in silence, reaching the edge of the training ground before long. The sound of clashing metal and pained grunts filled the air, overshadowed by the barking of the Commander. They walked as far as the gates, where she stopped. 

“I borrowed the knife and sheath to harvest the elfroot from Harritt. I need to return it.” She could still feel the warm softness of his clothing against her fingers.

He nodded at her. “On dhea'him, Natalie.” With a smile, he turned and walked up the stairs in the village.

She watched him walk away, feeling the conflicted emotions roiling in her head. He was a puzzle to her, a contradiction. Standing there for far longer than she should, she sighed as she gathered her wits to walk over to the blacksmith. A shadow fell across her, and a huge hand covered her eyes. 

The world seemed to narrow to a pinpoint as she saw flashes of a shadowed face in a dark hoodie, and the flash of light against the dark street. Sweat rolled from her pores as a terrible scream tore from her throat, panic welling up inside her. Fear, bright and sharp, building and building until the pressure began to burst apart her seams. The edges of her mind pulled and strained, growing tauter until… release. It all left her in a rush. A force tearing from her body and ripping the hand from her face. She seemed to float in a sea of light, her body weightless. For endless moments, she felt bathed in the warm glow and complete silence as time slowed to a standstill. 

All at once, time returned to normal and she fell to the ground, the ground spinning and tilting in her vision. Shaking, she looked up to see Haven as if through water. Everything blurring and melding together. Vaguely, she became aware of the shouting voices around her. 

“ _ Lysette, get to her and cut her off from the Fade!” _

_ “Commander, I’m trying!” _

Her body grew heavy, drained. The world became a haze of darkness before going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun.
> 
> Hello lovelies! I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who is reading, and who has left kudos and comments. I've been kind of blown away by the response so far and I just want to say that I super appreciate all of you.
> 
> Any and all Elvhen language words and phrases are courtesy of the fabulous FenxShiral and Project Elvhen. Check out her Tumblr for extra research! it's awesome.


	8. Click, Click. Boom

There was darkness. Ravenous, endless darkness. It drifted, skeletal shadows grasping into the night with long claws. It beckoned, promising safety and warmth. But behind the hollow words, something sinister lurked. The forest around was barren, silent. The trees not merely hibernating, but dry and dead. Their branches fallen and broken. In a hollow near the massive roots of a particularly ancient tree, a small figure shrouded in white sat, half hidden in the twisting labyrinth of the tree’s foundation.

Curling in the darkness, she hugged her knees to her chest as shivers ran down her spine. Cold sweat beaded on her hairline, sliding in trails down her clammy skin. Freezing cold needles prickled up the back of her neck. Breath left her in shuddering whispers.

There was nothing beyond the darkness. It lay so thick that it was hard to see anything more than a few feet away from her hiding place. Wind howled around her, chilling her to the bone and whipping her hair around her head. The dead limbs above her groaned and cracked dangerously. A tempest of emotions raged in her head. Voices that screamed and wailed, refusing to give her peace. Her limbs felt heavy as tears tracked slowly down her face.

A pale light bobbed in the distance. Eyes wide, she pressed herself into the tree, trying to make herself a small as possible. The light moved closer, winking out periodically before coming back as it traveled through the trees. Every muscle in her body clenched, frozen. Her fingers bit into the skin on her legs as she she clutched them unbearably tight.

A clicking noise came from the far side of her tree. She heard the scrabble of dry leaves. A slow scrape on the bark spurred her into action. Falling forward, she scrambled on hands and knees. Turning wide eyes behind her to see what was following, she fell backward. Her eyes swiveling frantically for the source of the noise. Muscles tense, she looked for a weapon. A large, fallen branch lay a few feet away. Stumbling to her feet, she pounced on it. As she stood, she held it out in front of her like a sword. Adrenaline coursed through her veins.

For a moment, the wind was the only noise in the vast darkness. Slowly, black legs appeared around the edge of the tree. She found herself facing a massive spider. Its multitude of eyes glinting malevolently. Its mandibles worked, click, click, clicking. The creature advanced on her.

Dry bark scraped against her palms as she adjusted her grip and clenched the branch. The spider continued it’s march toward her, its many legs eating away at the ground between them. The muscles in her stomach clenched, tingles of fear radiating down her neck and shoulders. Tensing for the strike, she eyed the monster and waited.

It closed in, its eyes focused on her. Click, click, click.

A scream tearing from her throat, she swung the branch. She felt the jolt up her arms as the branch connected. The spider skittered, lunging at her. Its jaws slicing through her clothing and into her leg. A line of stinging pain spread across her skin. Jumping back, she gathered her strength. Muscles bunched and sinew tensed. Using what strength she had, she lunged and swung with with a fierce cry.

“Don’t touch me!” The words rang out in the forest, carried away by the wind.

The recoil of the strike numbed her arms as the wood battered the spider. The creature canted sideways, falling to the ground. A haze of red washed over her vision as she swung again and again. The strikes sent the spider rolling across the forest floor, its legs waving violently. She couldn’t stop. She had to make sure it was dead. Over and over, she bludgeoned it as she screamed her rage and frustration.

Finally, fatigue crept into her. Panting, she tried to raise the limb once more, but found it far too heavy. The haze on her mind cleared. She became aware of the sticky black blood coating her lower arms, and spattered across her white dress. The spider lay before her, unmoving. Flesh turned into pulp.

With a gasp, she dropped the branch and stepped backward. Horrified. Her heart beat so hard she could hear the pulse in her ears. Hands shaking, she stared at the mess before her as she stumbled backward.

She only made it two steps before her legs gave out. Falling to the hard ground, she retched and retched until she had emptied herself into the leaves. Stomach muscles clenching, she went to wipe her mouth only to remember the thick blood coating her arms. Frantically, she scrubbed at her hands trying to clean away the sticky mess. Tears rolled down her face.

“Natalie.” A voice called to her, but she ignored it.

A pool of light spread around her, illuminating the barren ground.

“Natalie!” The voice was more insistent this time.

She looked up through watery tears to find a tall, cloaked figure standing a few feet away, a ball of mage fire in its hand. She stared dumbly as the figure moved toward her and knelt in front of her.

“Te son, Natalie. It will be alright.” He lowered his hood to reveal an angular face and pointed ears. A face she knew.

“Solas…” The word escaped on a whisp of breath.

She felt something crumble inside her. The terror left her in a torrent of tears as she launched herself at him. Strong arms gathered her up, and her face pressed against a warm chest. His hand stroked down her hair as she clutched the front of his clothing, tears soaking the woolen fabric. His steady presence was a balm on her wounded soul.

“Ame amahn sul na. I am here.”

All her rage and hurt poured from her eyes, rivers of heavy emotion rushing from her body. She cried for herself. She cried for Chicago. She cried for the life she had lost. She cried for the weeks that had been lived in terror. And she cried for the violence she hadn’t known she was capable of. The tears gradually tapered off, and she lay curled against him. Drained. Eyes feeling just as raw as her heart. The feather-light pull of his fingers through her hair keeping her focused on the present.

“I was so scared.” She whispered.

“I know, da’len, but you have done so well.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Of course.” His hand moved around from the back of her head to cup her cheek, tilting her face so her eyes could meet his. A thumb gently brushed the wetness from her skin.

“All you have to do is wake up.”

* * *

 

Natalie sat up straight in with a gasp, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She held her hands out in front of her, startled to see clean skin. _What the hell? How much of that was a dream?_ The experience had been so vivid. She could still feel the chill needles of the howling wind, and smell the rotten tang of the spider’s blood. Coolness bled through her skirts into her skin. Unyielding stone bit into her legs.

_Stone?_

Abruptly, she realized that she lay on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Light from a single guttering torch flickered from the far wall, cutting through the dimness to reveal her surrounded by rough hewn stone. Scrambling to her feet, she stalked to the iron bars of the door.

_A fucking jail cell. What the fuck is going on?_

Grasping the chilled metal, she shook the door.

“Hey! What the hell is going on?” Her voice echoed down a dark hallway. “Hello!”

She rattled the bars. “Hey!”

Hot anger and outrage poured through her veins. Screaming in frustration, she shook the door as hard as it would allow. Pain flared up her leg as she kicked it with one booted foot.

“Damnit!” Breath hissing through her teeth, she hopped on one foot to ease the pressure on the now-injured one.

A door slammed from somewhere down the hallway, catching her attention. Hobbling back to the door, she clawed at the bars.

“Let me the fuck out of here!”

Heavy boots plodded down the hallway, the torchlight glinting off of shining metal plate. The armored man came to a halt in front of her door.

“Step back.” He ordered.

“Let me out of here.” She glared at him.

“I will, as soon as you back away from the door.” His voice was firm, his eyes narrowed.

They stood at an impasse for long moments before she grudgingly complied, retreating back into the cell a few feet. Her arms crossed over her chest defiantly as she watched him unlock the door.

“Put your arms out.”

She noticed the heavy metal cuffs he bore.

_Handcuffs?!_

“Oh hell no. You’re not putting those on me.”

“You can either put them on or you can stay in here and rot. Your choice.” He shrugged, his nonchalant attitude setting her teeth to grinding.

“How about I agree to come peacefully, and we can pretend we used the cuffs?”

He sighed heavily. “Look, I don’t make the rules here. I’m just following orders. Orders are cuffs or you stay here.”

Her brain quickly weighed the options. After the disturbing nature of her dreams, the thought of staying in this dank basement another second was vastly unappealing.

“Fine.” She thrust out her wrists, a petulant pout on her face.

In short order, she found herself bound into a medieval torture device that apparently passed for handcuffs in this backwards world. It held her hands a foot apart, bound securely into the metal manacles. The nameless guard led her through the dungeon and up a set of steep stairs, until she found herself standing in the Chantry and approaching a familiar heavy wooden door.

The soldier knocked brusquely, and the door flew open to reveal Cassandra.

“Thank you, Ser Aldwyn. I will handle it from here.” The Seeker’s eyes were piercing in her serious face.

“Yeah, thanks.” The words were heavy with sarcasm as Natalie stared the man in the face.

The inquisition soldier nodded at Cassandra before bowing out. Cassandra grasped Natalie’s arm to escort her into the room.

“Fen’Harel ver na! Why is she in irons?” Haleir wore a thunderous expression, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“She may be dangerous. We cannot take a chance.” Cullen stood off to one side, studying her intently.

“She’s not dangerous!” He swept over to her, taking the metal cuffs into his hands. “Either release her, or I’ll do it myself.”

“Herald, I have the only key.” Cassandra looked mutinous at the suggestion.

“Yes, and I’m a rogue and damn good a picking locks. We’ll figure it out.” He snapped at her.

“What the hell do you mean ‘She’s dangerous?’” She could feel the pulse in her temples as she fought back the rush of anger at his words. “I don’t even remember what happened! I just woke up in your fucking dungeon!”

“You remember none of it?” A cultured voice came from the back of the room.

Dorian, the dark man with the neat mustache she had met on the road, stepped out from behind a silently watching Leliana and approached her.

Natalie glared at him. “I don’t know what happened. I can’t tell if what I remember is even real or not. Surely, this is all a damn nightmare.”

“Well, let me help you sort it out. You mind blasted a Qunari warrior at least fifteen feet across the training grounds, and then trapped yourself behind a barrier until you ran yourself out of mana. You’ve been asleep for 2 days.”

Natalie was momentarily stunned. “What did you say? I did what?”

“My dear, you’re a mage. Did you not know?”

Her head swam and she tried to sort through this new information. She remembered standing by the gates. A grip over her eyes. A great pressure rising, stretching and snapping. Then the spider…. Was that a dream? A nightmare?

“I remember that part.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Then I was in a forest. It was dark. There was a huge spider.” She swallowed heavily as she remembered the vicious interaction. “It tried to attack me, and I beat it with a fallen tree limb.”

“A spider, you say?”

“Yes, a spider. One the size of a dog.”

“Likely a demon.” Cassandra studied her intensely.

The dark man nodded. “Yes, it sounds that way.”

“And you say you killed it with a branch?” Cullen walked toward her, his relaxed stance belied by the tension in his face.

“What does it matter? It was a nightmare!” She shouted.

The Seeker and the Commander shared a long look before facing her.

“You can’t go untrained.” Cullen’s face was serious. “It’s too dangerous to consider.”

“Training? For what? To become a mage?”

“Darling, you’re already a mage. Just not a very good one.”

Dorian gave her a look that was clearly pity. It only made her angrier. Her head was swimming. Her back ached from waking on the cold, hard floor. And now her wrists complained about the heavy manacles.

“We should release her to Madame de Fer. She is the highest qualified mage we have, and will know how to safely mitigate this situation. If she will agree, that is.”Josephine piped up from the back of the room.

“I think that would be wise. We don’t have the time to stand around debating this all day, and I think that is as good a suggestion as any.” Cassandra shook her head before looking over at Natalie. “You have wonderful timing, as always.”

“Yes, Cassandra, because this was a choice.” Haleir’s voice was dry. “In any case, let’s unchain her and end this unpleasant meeting up so we can finish addressing the issue of Magister Alexius.”

Cassandra nodded. “Indeed. We have more pressing issues.”

Cullen opened the door and spoke softly to someone just outside for several minutes, before turning to face them again. “I will have her escorted to Madame Vivienne.”

* * *

 

Vivienne, as it turned out, was a harsh taskmaster. She demanded nothing less than the full measure of Natalie’s time and attention. Unfortunately, that was almost all of it. For hours. Every day. As much as magic interested her, it turned out that Natalie was not a natural at it and it did not come easy. Her flame was weak and anemic, her barriers easily broken, her ice thin, and lightning completely eluded her. She left each day feeling frustrated and demoralized.

The Fade seemed so far away. She couldn’t seem to pull from it the way Vivienne described to her. She would reach out with her mind and… nothing.

To make it all worse, she was still being watched day in and day out by some of the Templar soldiers. They trailed her everywhere she went, watching her like bomb about to go off. There seemed to be a token effort to pretend they weren’t following her, but it seemed stealth was not their strong suit. She had taken to waving at them every time she left a building, just to make them feel awkward about it. In the end, it was better than being handcuffed. So she tolerated it.

Haven was a buzz of activity outside the Chantry, where she spent all day studying. Haleir had taken Dorian, Solas, and Iron Bull to Redcliffe days ago to confront the Tevinter usurpers. Natalie would have liked to pick Solas’ brain about all this. Not to mention the strange dream…

Everyone waited with bated breath for the Herald to return with news that the mages were coming to help them close the Breach. The amount of power it seemed like it would take to seal a gaping hole in the sky was incomprehensible to her. She felt distinctly useless. With this newfound power, she was too dangerous to be left in the clinic anymore, but she didn’t have the skill to be of any use as a mage. So she was doomed to spend her days locked away with Vivienne, who made sure Natalie knew she thought she was useless too.

“No! Feel with your mind and then draw on the energy to form the spell!” Vivienne snapped.

“I don’t feel anything!”

“Because you’re not trying hard enough.”

“I’ve had a migraine for the past 8 days, Vivienne! My brain can’t try any harder.”

“Well, my dear, if you stop whining long enough to focus, then maybe you would be able to accomplish it.”

Natalie pressed her fingertips into her temples, feeling the pulse beating there. Her head felt like a balloon about to pop. The headache she had mentioned was no joke. Her eyes felt about to burst out of her skull.

“Vivienne, I can’t any more today.”

The older woman looked down at her with disdain. “Very well, but don’t expect to ever master being a mage with this kind of effort.”

“Fine.” She snapped.

A sigh of disgust came from behind her as she turned and left the side alcove of the Chantry where Vivienne had set herself up. Natalie rolled her eyes. _Whatever. She can be pissed. I’m all out of fucks to give._

Bright sunlight streamed in from outside as she approached the doors. Her eyes squinted, her head throbbing. Trekking across the courtyard to a low-lying wall directly across from Chantry, she sat with a hefty sigh. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to ease her aching brain.

There had to be a piece she was missing in all this. Vivienne was obviously extremely knowledgeable. Natalie had no doubts about her competency. But something had yet to click. A link yet to be made, if she could only figure out what it was. _Would you listen to me? Trying to figure out why I can’t do_ magic _properly._ She let out a small laugh at the sheer implausibility of the surreal situation she found herself in.

A commotion before her made her raise her head. Haleir strode out of the Chantry, moving with more determination than she had ever seen before. His eyes blazed, landing on her.

“Come on. I need a drink, and you look like you do too.”

“When did you get back? I didn’t even see you come in.” Natalie rose to her feet, following him as he kept walking. Her legs stretching in an effort to keep up with his long strides.

“About an hour ago. I’ve been locked away with Cullen berating me about how allowing the mages to come in as allies has doomed us all to be murdered by abominations.”

“So, you were successful?”

He let out a bark of laughter. “In a manner of speaking. The mages are coming, and they are going to help close the Breach. The King of Fereldan ordered them to leave Redcliffe immediately, so they are already on their way.”

“That’s great news!”

His face darkened. “Natalie, the Breach is only the beginning. Something much, much worse is coming.”

“Worse than a hole in the sky that vomits demons?”

He stopped and turned, taking her by the shoulders. He pinned her with his steely eyes. “This whole thing was started by someone Alexius called the Elder One. I saw what he’s going to do. Everyone is going to die if we don’t stop him.”

“How do you know everyone is going to die?”

“Because I was there. I was in the future. I watched them get slaughtered right in front of me.”

Natalie stared at him, her mouth dropping open. _The future?_ She mentally shook herself, before remembering how she had gotten here in the first place. Suddenly time travel didn’t seem so strange.

“How do we stop it?”

Haleir inhaled deeply and let it all out again slowly. “I don’t know. But we’re going to. We have to.”

They stood there for several more long moments before he clapped her on the shoulder. “Let’s go get that drink.”

Unable to find the words for a suitable response, she nodded. “Yeah. Suddenly, I really want to be drunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hardcore cliffhanger on that last chapter, guys. I made this one longer than normal, so I hope that makes up for it. :)
> 
> As always, thank you so much to all of you who are reading this fic. Special thanks for the people leaving comments and kudos, and subscribing for updates. I’m really enjoying writing this, so I really hope you all are enjoying reading it. 
> 
> The Elvhen phrases and translations are courtesy of FenxShiral and Project Elvhen.


	9. Fade Into You

Solas was not outside of his cabin, where she usually spied him. Natalie let out a sigh of frustration. She had sought him out, hoping she could pick his brain about the Fade and how she might overcome this roadblock she seemed to have encountered with her so-called magic. His expertise on the Veil and the Fade far outpaced everyone else she had spoken to, and she felt certain he would be the one who could help her. That was not in the cards today, apparently.

Staring at the empty space where he often stood, she felt herself deflate. It had taken hours to work up the courage to face him, after the embarrassment of throwing herself at him in her dreams. She knew that he didn’t know about that particular interlude, but she still did. That was enough. Vivienne’s lesson today have been particularly long and full of thinly veiled contempt. Natalie didn’t know how much longer she could tolerate them or her.

“Looking for our elven friend?” A male voice called out to her.

Natalie whirled around, unaware that anyone had seen her standing around staring awkwardly at Solas’ cabin. Dorian stood a few paces behind her. He cut a dashing figure standing outside the neighboring structure, exuding his usual level of swagger. Her cheeks heated at the smirk that turned up the corner of his mouth.

“Just out for a walk.” She replied, mouth smiling tightly.

“Ah, I see.”

He was mocking her. She could tell. And she hated him for it. It was a damned shame he was so likable.

“How are your lessons with the Court Enchanter going? Are you a master mage yet?”

Natalie couldn’t suppress a snort of derision. “At this rate, I’ll be old and gray by the time I’m able to light a candle.”

His eyes narrowed. “I find that incredibly hard to believe. I was there to witness your outburst outside the gates. I wasn’t aware that Qunari could fly, but you seemed to have cracked that secret.”

“I wish I knew where that came from and where I could get some more.”

Dorian beckoned her over. “What’s the problem you’re having? Perhaps I can help shed some light.”

Natalie threw up her arms, the frustration of days of repeated failure burning in her chest. “I don’t know! It just doesn’t work the way Vivienne says it does. There is nothing there!”

“What do you mean ‘nothing?’”

“I mean nothing. She keeps telling me to ‘reach out with my mind and pull’ but I reach and there is nothing there to grab onto.”

Dorian studied her, rubbing at his chin with his fingertips. A low hum came from his throat as he considered her words. “It’s not so much pulling it as is it gathering it.”

“Gathering it? What does that even mean?”

Dorian’s eyes blazed. “Think of it this way. You’re gathering threads of the Fade through the Veil, and using those threads to create something new. But you’re not yanking them, you’re coaxing them.”

“But I can’t even find the threads. There’s just… nothing.”

“There’s never nothing.” Dorian made a quick sound of frustration. “Close your eyes.”

Natalie rolled them instead. “Vivienne has been saying the same thing for over a week.”

“Do you want to learn or not?” Dorian raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with her attitude.

“Fine.” Natalie closed her eyes, with a great huff.

“Now, pay attention how the world around you feels. Feel the energy around you. It’s like a vibration, but in your mind.”

Natalie cleared her mind as best she could. Concentrating, she spread her awareness out. She could feel the anticipation in the air, the tension. She could sense the crush of people. The fervent prayers of the faithful. Her own bottomless skepticism. Beyond all that, a faint buzz. It felt like black coffee on a cold morning. 

Tentatively she reached for it, trying to gather it up in her mind. It slipped through her fingers like water. Again, she reached out. The buzzing energy remained elusive, dancing away. She tried a third time. All she came away with was a headache.

Opening her eyes, she grunted in frustration. “I can’t hold on to it. It’s there, but it just slips away.”

“If you let it come to you, you may have more luck.” A third voice joined them. Natalie whipped her head around. Solas stood just behind them, removing his gloves. “The energy of the Fade is not a thing to be a slave to your will.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “It’s energy. A tool. It’s meant to be used for a mage’s purpose.”

“And you, being from Tevinter, are quite well versed in enslaving things.” Solas’ eyes were hard, boring into Dorian. “Natalie, it would be my pleasure to show you what I am referring to.” He gestured to the cabin behind him, before striding purposefully away.

Natalie threw a glance over her shoulder. “Dorian, thank you so much for your insight. I will consider what you said about the Fade being threads to be used to create the spells.”

“Go on, I can tell you want to.” The smile on his face was teasing, knowing. 

She felt her cheeks burn as she gave a little shrug, brushing off his comment. She waved a bit before following Solas to the cabin, where he stood in the doorway. As he disappeared inside, she was behind him. The cabin’s interior was small and cozy, like hers. A blazing fire crackled merrily in the hearth. A desk sat near the far wall, stacked high with books that overflowed onto the floor beneath it. The bed was neatly made and tucked away into the back corner. 

Solas strode over the bed, leaving his staff atop it. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation with Master Pavus. You are having difficulty grasping the Fade?” 

He removed his overcoat as he spoke. The play of the muscles beneath his thin shirt leaving her mouth dry. She mentally shook herself as she realized he was staring at her expectantly. 

“Um… yes. Vivienne and Dorian have both tried to explain it to me. It’s starting to look like I’m a particularly terrible mage.”

He smiled softly. “You’re not a terrible mage.” He pulled a chair from the desk and sat it facing the bed. “Sit.”

Natalie sat in the chair, tucking her long skirt around her legs. He took a place on the end of the bed opposite her.

“It’s important to remember that we all exists alongside the Fade. It is an integral part of this world, meant to be respected.” His voice was low, echoing with a thousand ancient memories collected over a lifetime. “Within the Fade, is all the knowledge of the ages past and present. And the power to use that knowledge. Can I take your hand?”

Natalie nodded, taken aback by the request but holding out her hand anyway. “Okay.” 

His skin was warm against hers as he turned her hand over in his, running his fingers along her palm. Cradling the back of her hand in his. A crackle of faint energy buzzed along her skin, spreading up her arm and through her body. Her lips parted as she stared at their joined hands.

“Do you feel that?” 

She nodded once more, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth.

“Excellent. Now, seek out that energy and let it gather around you. The idea is to gather as much as possible, without expending your own. If you try too hard to pull it in, you won’t have enough left to hold onto it.”

Natalie closed her eyes. The air felt thick around her, buzzing with electricity. Motes of energy floating like fireflies in her mind’s eye. She called out to them, beckoning them closer. Wisps of brightness convened around her limbs, gently brushing against her skin and clothing, huddling close to her. Tingles traveled across her skin, raising the small hairs on her arms. 

“Now, invite it in. Let it all dissolve into your skin, into your mind.” His voice was soft, far away. 

She let loose of the hold she had on herself, letting her mind unfurl. Heat sunk into her body, sending bolts of energy along her nerve endings. Her heart raced as her blood filled with the strange intensity. Her lungs gasped for breath, overcome. Her mind drifted, body floating on the rush of power inside her. 

“Ask it to do something for you.”

_ Fire. _

Streams of power left in a rush, converging in her palm. Heat enveloped her hand. Opening her eyes, she let out a gasp to see a brightly burning ball of mage fire in her palm. It licked over her skin, dancing with unspent power.

“I did it.” She whispered, voice filled with awe.

“You did, indeed.” A smile played across his lips, his eyes sparkling in the firelight. “Now let it dissipate.”

Natalie let go of the ball of energy flowing through her hands. The flames winked out. Laughing, she lit another ball of flame in her hands, and let that one go out as well. Joy at her success flowed through her. Calling upon the power inside once more, she lit a final, larger ball and held it in both hands. 

“This is  _ amazing. _ ” Her words tripped over giddy laughter, overcome with the swell of emotion inside her.

“It is, isn’t it? After studying you while you were unconscious after your arrival here, I could tell that your energy didn’t quite fit the same as everyone else’s. I can only assume that you have a unique connection to the Fade in this world, since you are from another one. Doing magic for you is a matter of allowing the energy here to become acquainted with yours, so they can speak the same language. To put it in simple terms.”

She glanced up at him, feeling his scrutiny on her face. His look was serious, but soft. A slight crinkle of happiness around his eyes. She beamed at him as she let the last flame go out. Elation made her body light, capable of flying. 

“Thank you  _ so much _ .” 

Natalie flew from the chair and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Arms came around her, tentatively at first, then settling around her back. The scent of clean mountain air, pine trees, and something darker, muskier, filled her nose. Warmth spread through her, relaxing her muscles, pressing her knee into the mattress beside him. She broke away, feeling flushed and overheated. 

Clearing her throat, she stood and moved a few steps away, trying to put some distance between them. “Sorry about that. We, uh, we hug where I’m from.” 

He rose from his seat, watching her. “You don’t need to explain, or apologize.”

They studied each other for several long moments, before she broke the silence. “What else can I do? I want to learn  _ everything. _ ”

He chuckled. “I cannot pretend to be able to teach you everything, but I am happy to share what I know.”

* * *

Two days passed in the blink of an eye. She spent much of it with Solas, picking his brain about every topic she could think of. He taught her to raise a barrier, to dispel harmful magics, and to create an aura that would make things less likely to attack her. She learned to throw the fireballs she had made that first day. All her efforts were still clumsy and her aim poor, but she felt better knowing that she was making progress at last.

They spent hours talking about the things he had seen in the Fade. Walking through Haven, he told her countless stories of the ancient people of Thedas. He painted murals of cities of towering crystal spires and floating libraries that encompassed the collective knowledge of whole civilizations with words. When she closed her eyes at night, she dreamt of long-forgotten wonders and battlefields. 

She was drawn in by the passion and intelligence that spoke volumes beyond his actual words. His impressive mind was a trove of knowledge on such a wide variety of subjects that she felt dizzy from absorbing even a fraction. Despite looking only a few years older than her own twenty nine years, Natalie got the impression that he was much older than she thought he was. 

It was during one such conversation on the subject of the history of the Andrastian faith that a runner from the Chantry appeared to interrupt them. 

“Excuse me, but they sent me to find you. The mages have arrived from Redcliffe, and they are meeting in the Chantry. You are requested.” The young man’s face was red, his breathing labored. He had obviously been running around looking for Solas for quite some time.

“You can let them know I will be there shortly.”

The young soldier saluted briskly before speeding off back in the direction he had come. 

“Come, we should be involved in this conversation.”

“We?” She stood there, frozen, as he began to walk away.

He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “You are a mage, are you not? You should hear what is involved in something like this.”

Natalie figured he had a point about that, so she followed without further argument. 

The Chantry was packed when they arrived. Every mage from Haven, with the addition of dozens more, stood shoulder to shoulder in the main room. Haleir stood at the head of the room with Cullen, Cassandra, and a dark-haired elven woman that Natalie had yet to meet. Haleir’s eyes were dull, ringed in darkness. His skin was pale, and his foot tapping impatiently. The room was filled with a nervous excitement that put her teeth on edge. 

Cullen’s voice cut over the din. “The trek up the mountain to the Temple of Sacred Ashes takes about four hours. We will need to leave well before dawn to reach the Breach and have time to make it back to Haven after we have completed the mission. It is too dangerous to camp up in the mountain with the red lyrium infecting the site of the Breach.”

“Once we reach the Breach, the Herald will take a center position and the rest of you will form a circle around him and channel your magic into him. Keep in mind that he is not a mage, and he will need your support in handling this amount of magical energy at once.” Cassandra’s voice was solid, even though she had dark bruises beneath her eyes to match Haleir’s.

Cullen nodded. “As long as we can make a concentrated effort for long enough, we believe that the energy will be sufficient to close the Breach permanently.” 

A cheer rose from the crowd. There were smiles on many faces near them. People seemed relieved to have an avenue to stop the Breach and the Rifts. Natalie remembered what Hale had told her about the Elder One.  _ I wonder if any of them know about that part?  _ Her mind filled with a vision of an endless sky of green lightning, and everyone she knew in this world slaughtered by an army of demons.

_ God, I hope this works. _

“Any questions?” Cullen called out over the boisterous group.

Immediately, a dozen hands went up and people were shouting out all manner of inquiries. It was eventually decided that they would depart in 2 days, just before dawn, in order to give Quartermaster Threnn time to outfit the party with any necessary gear. Her stomach clenched. That seemed so soon.

As the mages filed out, Solas pressed a hand against her shoulder and guided her through the crowd toward the group at the head. Haleir saw her and smiled, his face brightening a little.

“Natalie! I haven’t seen you in days. Vivienne said she released you from her lessons.”

Cullen and Cassandra pinned her with laser focus. She squirmed under their scrutiny, but tore her gaze away to address the elven man. “Uh, yeah. I guess you can say we’ve been doing a more independent study approach.”

Haleir nodded to acknowledge Solas, as he drew her aside. “And how is that going?”

“It’s going. Finally. Solas helped me make the connection with the Fade I needed, and he has been very accommodating in order to teach me some things.”

Haleir’s eye narrowed. “And how exactly did you get Vivienne to agree to that? Cassandra told me that Vivienne came to her and refused to teach you any longer.”

Natalie gasped. “She didn’t.”

“She absolutely did.”

“I don’t know how the conversation went, but he talked to her. All I know is that he came back and told me that Vivienne had turned my training over to him. That it was settled.”

“They had no idea that someone else was helping you. The two of them have been unbearable, shrieking about how you’re going to turn into an abomination. Are you sure he is the best one to help?”

“He was the only one who was able to explain how to connect with the Fade in a way that worked. Both Vivienne and Dorian tried. It’s honestly just as well. Vivienne is convinced that I am useless and has no desire to be saddled with me.”

Haleir looked skeptical, his eyes narrowed and his mouth bunched up on the side. “I guess as long as you’re comfortable with it.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

“I didn’t say you did.” He replied, with a bark of laughter.

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

He slung an arm around her shoulders, smiling. “Let me introduce you to former Grand Enchanter Fiona. She is a spirit healer and I am sure you will have many, many questions for her.”

Natalie perked up at this. “Really? Yes, I absolutely do.”

With a laugh, he guided her over to the dark haired elf. 

“Fiona, I feel like you will soon regret this introduction.”

She did.

* * *

 

The biting pre-dawn hair nipped at her exposed skin as she stood outside the gates of Haven, watching the mages prepare to depart. It seemed that everyone had roused themselves from their beds at this ungodly hour. Every person in Haven wanted to see off the mages, in hopes of sending any hope and faith they could muster along with them. 

It had been decided yesterday that Natalie would stay behind. She was deemed too inexperienced to share such a portion of her mana without potentially doing harm to something or someone. As much as it stung her, they were likely right. She had very little control over what she was doing still, so her place was here in Haven. Her day would be spent assisting in the clinic, where she could be of use.

The groups of mages in the training grounds were buzzing despite the early hour. Haleir strode down the stairs with the purpose in his step, the members of the inner circle behind him. He spotted her in the crowd and made his way to her. 

“Well, here goes nothing.” He gave a small shrug.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to close that thing and come back a hero.”

Hale laughed, running a hand through his long white hair. “You mean I’m not already a hero? I think I’m offended.”

“You know what I mean.” She punched his shoulder, playfully. 

“Keep order around here while we’re gone, yeah?”

She scoffed. “You know it.” She caught his hand as he started to turn away. He looked down at her with curious eyes. “Hale, don’t die, okay? I will be very disappointed in you if you do.”

His face softened. “I won’t. I have far too many things left to do to die now.”

“Good luck.”

“See you later,  _ Bunny _ .” 

He tapped the end of her nose with his finger before turning to walk away. His usual compatriots, along with the leadership, trailed behind him to where the horses waited. Solas was near the back of the group, looking far too awake for the hour.

“Solas!” She called, as she made her way through the crowd to him.

He stopped and turned to her, a small smile on his face. “Good morning, Natalie.”

She felt a sudden stab of anxiety in her gut. “Do you think this is going to work?”

“I think there is a very good chance of success, yes.” 

“That’s good.” She stared down at her feet, feeling suddenly quite foolish.

“Natalie. Is there something you want to say?”

Her eyes met his as she raised her face to his. His blue gaze was soft, warm.

“Come back safe, alright?” She felt her fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch him, but she forced it still. 

“I will try my very best.” 

With a smile, he turned to leave and she kicked herself for her cowardly nature.  _ Get yourself together, Nat. _

The entire party departed to a roar of fanfare, people cheering and stomping their approval of their mission. The mood of the crowd was jovial, but the fear and uncertainty simmered just under the surface as they watched the departing backs of the Herald and his mages. Everyone believed they would close the Breach, but there was always the looming threat that they wouldn’t. Or that they would all die trying.

People gradually dissipated to go about their daily tasks mechanically. Eyes were cast often to the sky, even though it would be hours before they even reached the Temple. Natalie watched the swirling green clouds in the sky, heart pounding.

She could feel the time flow sluggishly past. Hours, minutes, seconds passing her slowly. Every person in the infirmary seemed to be watching the shadows as they moved across the floor, marking the sun’s passage through the sky. Tasks were repeated as distraction got the better of everyone. Thankfully, the clinic was quiet today. Otherwise, they might have more problems than the Breach. 

Mother Giselle sent them all away before lunchtime, telling them to enjoy the afternoon. Natalie thought she was just tired of all of them wandering around making mistakes. So, she collected a tome on healing magic that Grand Enchanter Fiona had recommended to her and went to sit out by the fire. 

The courtyard was the quietest she had ever heard it, as if the very trees and animals were holding their breath. She settled in, but the words on the pages blurred together and she found herself reading them over and over and still not absorbing their meaning. She tried until the sun rose overhead, almost directly above, but got nowhere. With a frustrated sigh, she snapped the pages closed and tucked the book under her arm. Maybe a walk. 

_ This is unbearable. How do people just wait like this? _

She felt like she was going insane, her mind racing but never settling on any one idea for long. She could feel beat of every moment as it ambled by. It was like sitting in rush hour traffic in downtown Chicago in the heat of the summer. Frustrating and miserable and endless.

Striding through Haven, she saw the others who obviously felt like she did today. People gathered in small clusters, talking quietly. No one seemed to be getting much of anything done today.

She peered up at the sky, shading her eyes with her hand.  _ Any time now, guys. _

As if on cue, a shudder rocked the ground beneath her feet. Catching her balance before she could fall, she steadied herself and stared at the sky. The Breach roiled, spitting sparks of light toward the earth below. A huge pulse of energy hit the maelstrom, sending flashing green lightning arcing across the sky. 

Natalie gasped as the hole pulsed, shrinking a little with each beat until a great clap of thunder vibrated through her bones. The great maw in the sky expanded out, skittering across the sky, before sucking into itself in an instant. It winked out, leaving endless blue behind. A faint green scar staining the clear, winter sky. 

As quickly as it had started, it was over. 

The rush of exhale could be felt throughout Haven as everyone took a collective breath of relief. The cheers started slowly, trickling from the training grounds and then sweeping across the landscape into a deafening roar. Natalie’s heart pounded in her chest.

_ They did it. Holy shit, they actually did it. _

She felt herself swept up into a joyful embrace by two of the Chantry sisters who regularly worked in the infirmary with her. The three women hugged, tears pouring from their eyes as laughter bubbled from their souls. The sky was clear. The literal threat hanging over their heads was gone. 

For the first time since her arrival, Natalie felt like a part of the whole. She felt belonging. 

She felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! As always, thank you so much to those who are reading, commenting, subscribing, and leaving kudos! I really appreciate you all.


	10. The Dawn Will Come

The celebrations started long before the Herald and his party arrived back in Haven from up the mountain. Barrels of ale were tapped and flowed freely. Music played throughout the streets, and people danced merrily in every nook and cranny. The atmosphere was joyous, exuberant. The first stirrings of sunset tinged the sky pink above the mountains.

  
When Haleir rode through the gates with the rest of the weary heroes behind him, a great cheer went up through the crowd. A smile split his face as he accepted a foaming mug from the first person to thrust it at him. The ale was quickly drained, to the delight of the roaring crowd. The massive hand of a nearby soldier slapped him on the back as he handed the mug back, laughing. Cassandra quickly appeared at his side, speaking into his ear. Hale’s face fell as he nodded, following her off toward the Chantry.

  
Natalie watched the scene unfold with a grin from near the lower bonfire. Her head swam, pulse pounding in her ears from the heady combination of alcohol and excitement. A mug appeared in front of her, held by a massive hand covered in gray skin. She stared at it, her muddled brain confused for a split second. The hand was connected to a an equally massive forearm, which then was connected to the massive Qunari.

  
Natalie considered his scarred face for a moment, as he steadily returned her gaze. She was confused as to why he was choosing to approach her. Certainly, she had alienated him pretty thoroughly with her ridiculous reaction to him after his arrival. And then there was the matter of throwing him with her mind and all.

  
Reaching out, she accepted the mug of ale from him. “Thank you.”

  
She took a drink, the cold liquid flowing down her throat and filling her insides with warmth.  
“Congrats on closing the big hole in the sky.” She said, wiping foam from the corner of her mouth.

  
“Bah, the mages did all the work. I was just there to make sure no one got cut in half by any demons.”

  
His voice was a low grumble. Natalie realized that she had never actually heard him speak, only laugh as she ran away like a coward.

  
“So… ah. Sorry about that whole… blasting you with my mind thing.” She looked up to find an amused smile on his face. “To be fair, I had no idea I could do that.”

  
Hearty laughter rang out. “Well, it was a surprise, for sure. But nothing I can’t handle.”

  
“Well, maybe you’ll think about it next time you go to grab a random person.”

  
“I’ll admit the execution was maybe a little lacking, but you can’t deny the results. You didn’t make that squawking noise and run away from me this time.”

  
With a start, she realized he was right. She wasn’t terrified and avoiding him anymore. She hadn’t really thought of him at all. “I guess you have a point there.”

  
“But I did want to say that I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t mean to scare you clear into becoming a mage.”

  
“I’m enjoying being a mage. Just don’t ever grab me without my permission again or I’ll blast you into pieces next time.”

  
“I think I can agree to that.” He looked at her with a grin. “But you really shouldn't say things like that. It’s turning me on.”

  
Ale flew from her nose as she burst into laughter. Fanning her face to ease the horrible burning, the sounds came out choking and hysterical. He burst into laughter and gave her a firm pat on the back.

  
“That's it. Let it all out.”

  
Natalie coughed as she dabbed her face with her sleeve. “Oh my god. You can’t say shit like that to me. I don’t think I can handle it.”

  
“Oh, I think you’d be surprised at what you can handle.”

  
Natalie snorted. “I tried riding a mechanical bull once at this bar in college. It bucked me off after about 2 seconds and I couldn't walk straight after.”

  
“That you can count on.” He replied with a wink.

  
She curled her hand into a fist and whacked him on the arm, laughing. “Oh, stop it.”

  
His chest shook with a full-bellied laugh as he clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my boys.”

  
Natalie glanced over to where the party who had ventured out to the Temple was still streaming through the gates. She spied a familiar bald head walking up the path toward his cabin. Solas’ eyes met hers for a brief instant before he looked away and continued on. Her heart fell. She didn’t know why she had been expecting him to stop and talk with her, but she had. And now she felt silly for being disappointed.

  
Setting her jaw firmly, she looked up at Bull. “I’d love to.”

  
The Chargers were a colorful bunch, and clearly well on their way to a blackout by the time she was ushered in to meet them.

  
Krem, Bull’s second in command, raised a mug to them as they entered. “Hey! When’d you get her to stop running from you?”

  
Natalie felt her cheeks heat. “I wasn’t running! Just walking quickly in the other direction.”

  
A round of laughter greeted her as she was shuffled to a bench and made to sit with yet another mug of foaming alcohol. Head swimming, she watched the group of them laugh uproariously and swap stories of impossible deeds. Natalie got the distinct impression they were showing off for her a bit.

  
The evening quickly devolved into copious sexual innuendo and off-key singing. Her ribs hurt and her head swam, and she didn’t think that she had had this much fun in years. Krem swept her off her into a lively dance, which her drunken mind could not even begin to make sense of but her feet tried their best. She draped herself over a nearby table, laughing until she was gasping for breath.

The chiming of bells sounding from outside interrupted the merriment. The minstrel stopped dead and the tavern fell silent, listening to the resounding drone of bells. For a moment, she couldn’t clear her mind. _Bells? Where are there bells?_

  
Bull stood abruptly, the bench behind him skidding across the floor. His face was immediately serious as he exchanged a hard look with Krem before dashing out the door.

  
“Warning bells.” She heard someone whisper.

  
“Are under attack?” Came a reply.

  
People started to trickle out into the street, confused and scared. Natalie was swept along with the crowd, and stumbled out into the cool night air. The peal of chiming bells was louder out here, pounding through her mind, killing off the first of her pleasant buzz. Shouts came from all around her. Pushing through the crowd, she walked back toward the campfire, hoping to get a better look. Maybe find out what was going on.

  
Cullen stood at the top of the stairs near the gate with Haleir, Cassandra, and Josephine. Some of the others waiting nearby, including Iron Bull. They exchanged hurried words.

  
“...a massive force. The bulk over the mountain.” Cullen’s face was grave.

  
“Under what banner?” Josephine’s eyebrows knit together.

  
“None.”

  
“None?”

  
A pounding rattled the massive wooden gates. Haleir bounded forward as the guard swung them open, with Cullen on his heels. Natalie watched in horror as a huge man in shining armor and a pointed helm fell forward with daggers in his back.

  
_Attack. We’re under attack. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._ She gasped as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. _Stay calm. Don’t panic._

  
“Move!” She was jostled roughly to the side as a stream of soldier flew past her toward the gates.

  
“We need to build barricades!”

  
A group of villagers were hurriedly moving a stack of wooden crates. Natalie shook her head to clear the cobwebs from it before dashing over to help them. Straining to lift one of them, she huffed at herself. _If you can lift a 6 foot man onto a gurney, you can lift this box, Nat. Use your legs!_ Finally budging it from the ground, she carried it over to where the others were stacking them to reinforce one of the log walls.

  
Before long, her arms burned and her back ached, but her heart pounded and her mind screamed at her to keep going as fast as possible. Drag, stack, pick up, carry, stack. Over and over they pushed crates and barrels into place to reinforce anywhere they could. Sweat poured down her brow despite the chill winter air.

  
Sounds of clashing metal and pained screams sounded outside the walls. The stench of fire and blood accompanied the smoking billowing into the air. A crack preceded a loud bang and another round of screaming.

  
“Hurry! We need to secure this section!” One of the stablehands shouted.

  
The group of them pushed the last crates into place, fitting them snugly against the wall at the ground.

  
“We’re out of crates!”

  
“Find more!”

  
Another crack of metal and wood was followed by a slight rush of silence, and then a deafening roar.

  
“Avalanche!”

  
All heads turned toward the mountain, where a fog of white was rumbling down the slopes. It crushed the trees and everything else in its path as their soldiers sent up a joyful cheer.

  
“It is over?”

  
“Victory!”

  
A rush of relief flooded her chest. _Is it done? Was that all?_

  
Before the celebration got off the ground, a great shrieking roar split the sky and an explosion billowed fire into the air from outside the walls. Those within stopped in shocked silence as a mammoth black shadow fell over them. At least thirty feet long, the massive creature filled the sky, wings beating the air. It let out another piercing roar before a fireball collided against the cabin nearest her.

  
“Dragon!”

  
A chorus of screams echoed through the night. Another blast of fire shook the ground beneath her feet. Heart beating frantically, she ducked against the nearest building and scanned the sky. _Where is it? Which way do I go?_ She couldn’t see the dragon, but she could hear it. Noises of death and pain filtered through to her as it set fire to more of Haven.

  
She didn’t know where anyone was. Haleir, Solas, and the others had disappeared outside the walls at the start of the fighting and she had yet to spy any of them again. She send up a fervent prayer that they were all still alive.

  
“Get to the Chantry!”

  
The shouts spurred her legs into action. Muscles pumping, she made a break toward the big, stone church. Flames surrounded her. Buildings collapsing as the old wooden structures were devoured in the greedy flames. Chaos everywhere.

  
A pained cry came from the nearest one. “Help!”

  
Natalie skidded to a stop as she saw the pale hand reaching from beneath a fallen beam, the fire dangerously close. The fingers worked at the dirt, scrabbling for purchase. She had to help. There was no way she could live with herself if she ran off now and left a person to die.

  
Falling to her knees in the dirt, she pried at the edge of the fallen wood. Desperate to lift it and free the body beneath, she braced her feet against the ground and lifted. The tendons in her arms were tight as bowstrings as her muscled screamed in protest. She strained her legs, pushing them into the packed earth. Sweat left black streaks in the soot on her skin.

  
Finally, she felt the beam give and lift away. A rustling of cloth and debris. The trapped woman pulled herself out, falling into the street in a huff. Natalie dropped the beam and went to her.

  
“Are you okay? Can you walk?”

  
The woman nodded at her, unable to speak.

  
“Then come on! To the Chantry!” She pulled the woman’s arm over her shoulders and lifted her, walking forward. The two of them hurried up the path toward safety as the dragon set fire to the gates with a great burst of flame.

  
A scream rent the sky. The body at her side listed and pulled her sideways, the arm falling away. An arrow pierced the woman’s throat, blood pouring down her chest in a great torrent as the light in her eyes dimmed.

  
Horrible creatures of misshapen flesh and glinting red crystal advanced on her. One. Two. Three of them. Their twisted faces grimaced beneath their once-shining helms. With a cry, the nearest one sprang at her. Natalie leapt back, a scream tearing from her throat. She looked around for a weapon, but there were none nearby. They advanced on her, malice shining from their dull, black eyes.

  
Her heart raced. Her eyes scanned for some method of escape. She had to do something. She wasn’t going to be helpless. A small fireball formed in her palm and she lobbed it at the smallest of her three assailants. It was a pitiful effort, but she was not capable of more without a staff. The magical flame burst across his shoulder and arm, and he let out a pained cry. He slowed, but did not stop. Letting out a battle cry, the three red abominations bounded at her with weapons drawn.

  
A flash of blue light and then a hard green barrier surrounded her, the enemies blasted backward.

  
“What are you doing here? GO!” Solas shouted.

  
The Iron Bull appeared out of the distance and jumped toward them, his great axe coming down in a wide arc to cleave the head from one of the monsters.

  
“Natalie! Run!” Solas shouted at her.

  
She took off, her legs pumping furiously as she dashed toward the Chantry with the sounds of battle following her. Skidding into the entryway, she stopped to catch her breath before turning to watch for the arrival of the others. She felt intensely guilty about leaving them behind, but it made sense. She was nowhere near as effective in a fight as they were, and her fumbling efforts would likely only slow them down. Maybe even get one of them killed.

  
Long moments passed in strained silence, her mind blocking out the noise around her. Fear blocking it out. _Where are you guys? Come on…_

  
“We need everyone in the back of the Chantry, miss.” A young soldier stepped in front of her, his body pressing her backwards.

  
“But, I need to…”

  
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to move back away from the doors. It’s not safe.”

  
He took hold of her arm to steer her back. She struggled against his grip.

  
“You don’t understand! I have to…”

  
He shook his head. “It’s for your own safety.”

  
He wasn’t going to let her stay. And everyone around was too busy to deal with her causing a scene. Her heart turned over in her chest, but she went with him. Casting a last long look over her shoulder, she saw Hale, and Bull and Solas skid into the Chantry with Cassandra at their heels. The four of them exhausted and covered in blood.

  
_They’re safe. He’s safe._

  
The whole of the remaining population of the Haven was crammed into the farthest room of the Chantry. Huddled masses of humanity, seething in fear. The smell of smoke was heavy in the room, wafting off of clothing and hair. Everyone sat in groups, whispering. Children wailed, clinging to their mothers skirts.

  
Natalie leaned against a nearby wall, her hands shaking. The adrenaline that had been keeping her going for… well, however long it had been since the fighting began had begun to fade, leaving her weary and heartsick. Never in her life had she thought she would be witness to something like this. It pulled at her soul, and lay heavy on her mind.

  
The doors opened and Cullen strode in, his steps strong and purposeful. A few of the other members of what she deemed the “Inner Circle” trickled in, followed by the mouthy Chancellor and a blonde boy she had never seen. The Chancellor looked terrible, his face pale and blood staining the front of his robes deep crimson. His wound was obviously severe. The group that had assisted her in the courtyard was missing. Hale, Solas, Cassandra, Bull.

  
“Alright.” Cullen’s voice cut through the whispers and other noise. “We are going to evacuate through the back and up a pass in the mountains. Chancellor Roderick knows the way and is going to guide us. Let’s move quickly, but in an orderly fashion.”

  
Cullen hesitated, his brows furrowing deeply. “The Herald and some of his companions have gone to try and trigger one last avalanche to bury the attacking army and give us time to escape. If you… please pray to the Maker that they succeed.”

  
_Trigger an avalanche? But the enemy is IN Haven._ The sick realization dawned on her. They were going to die. Hale and the others were going to sacrifice themselves for everyone else.

  
“No.” The word escaped her lips softly.

  
The people filed from the room through a small door in the far wall, moving quickly and quietly. Natalie felt numb as she followed blindly, letting the current of people sweep her away with them.

  
Hale. Charming, lovely Hale. Her only real friend. Gone. Bull. She had barely gotten to know him, but now she never would. Cassandra. Who she didn’t know, but still respected for her self-assurance and no nonsense attitude. And Solas. Her… she didn’t have the words to describe what he was. But his absence left a searing hole in her heart. A pain that left her breathless.

  
She walked on, a small tear streaking down her cheek leaving pale tracks behind.

  
“They still have a chance.” A gruff voice said beside her.

  
“I hope so, Varric.”

  
The refugees spanned out across the blinding snow, trudging through the pass as night turned slowly into dawn. The jeweled fingers of the sun staining the sky in rays of pink and yellow. She had stopped looking to the path ahead hours ago, her head too heavy to hold up any longer. One foot, then the other. Over and over. Trudging through the calf-deep snow. Soldiers pushed wagon loads of supplies up beside them, the horses struggling.

  
A woman fell nearby, holding her side. The front of her armor stained deep brown. Natalie hurried over to assist another soldier in lifting her up. They had to keep going. With the new weight on her shoulders, her body screamed in protest. Her stomach clenched with every step, bracing for the next foot forward. Onward and upward.

  
The entire group was nearly silent. Weariness permeated every movement. Many of them had been awake since before dawn yesterday, to see off the forces to close the Breach. _Was that just yesterday?_ It seemed so long ago now. So much had happened. They stopped periodically to light a few fires and warm the children and the injured, to doze lightly for a few minutes. But they had to press on, find a more secure place to camp.

  
Finally, they crested the summit of the pass. The view over the top between the high walls of ancient stone on either side was breathtaking. A sheltered valley lay ahead of them. Natalie turned back to scan behind them, where they had come from. Fervently wishing to see four dark figures trudging up the path below.

  
_Where are you? Please be alive…_

  
“Just a bit further! We set up camp in the valley!”

  
A rush of relief came at those words. There was a light at the end of this journey. The weary group trudged on, their clothing thick with caked snow and ice. Their bodies giving the last of their strength to the final stretch.

  
Impossibly, they finally reached the flat ground. A weak cheer went up through the company as Cullen called for them to make camp. The soldiers erected a tent for a clinic first, and Natalie helped shuffle the injured to say inside it as the rest of a tent city went up around them. Mother Giselle directed them all to stabilize who they could and set a shift to get some sleep.

  
After settling several people into cots and checking for fresh blood and signs of hypothermia, she found herself tapped into the first group to go rest. Wearily she nodded and left the tent, headed to find someone who could tell her where she was allowed to pass out for a few hours. She crossed the encampment as a small cheer sounded.  
Her heart leapt in her chest. _Cheering? Are they back?_

  
Natalie's feet carried her across the snowy ground, dodging around tents, and ropes, and all manner of supplies that cluttered the area. A small crowd gathered by the edge of the tents, near where they had trekked down the pass. A familiar pair of horns rose up above their heads.

  
_Oh my god._

  
Her heart pounding, she pushed her body to hurry as she covered the ground between them. As she neared, she could just make out a bald head walking away though the tents.

  
_Thank you, sweet baby jesus._

  
“Solas!” With a cry, she burst around the nearby shelter to find him there. His face weary and careworn, his clothing covered in blood and soot. But alive. His eyes connected with hers a split second before she threw her arms around his neck and her mouth crashed into his.

  
His lips were warm and soft under hers. She could feel him stiffen in surprise for a long moment, considering, before his arms came around her. Holding her to him. He kissed her, and the whole world fell away. There was nothing but this moment. This moment and the hot, desperate press of her lips on his. The taste of him invaded her senses. Like fire and ash and deep, dark forest.

  
Their lips parted, mingled breath creating warm dampness on her skin. Her fingers found the curves of his cheekbones, reassuring her of his solid reality beneath her hands.

  
“You’re alive.” Her voice came out as the barest whisper, as her eyes found his. They were warm in the morning light.

  
“I am.” Came his soft reply.

  
“I was so afraid you were dead.” The beginnings of a sob broke through, her voice cracking.

  
His hands left her body and cupped her face, his flesh warm and strong against hers. “Do not worry for me. I am here. I am well.”

  
She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. They stood there, feeling the warmth of the others presence for long moments. He broke away, the loss of his hands on her skin leaving her cold as he put distance between them.

  
“You should rest. I must help mount a search for the Herald.”

  
“Hale is still missing?” She felt guilty, not having considered that the four of them had not returned together.

  
“Yes, he sent us away to face this Elder One alone. He must be found.”

  
Solas’ eyes searched the camp, assessing. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, which rendered her cheeks hot and her mind roiling.

  
Natalie nodded, feeling foolish for throwing herself at him yet again. “I'm sure you have important things to do. I will leave you to it.”

  
Without sparing another glance, she made her way into the camp to locate a tent. Laying on the narrow cot with thin canvas above her and the safety of solitude, she let the tears roll down her cheeks. She shook with a sense of vulnerability that she hadn't experienced since her teenage years, when she had been shy and unsure of herself. The years had taken that from her, or so she thought. It was clear now that the depth of emotion she felt for the mysterious elven man who roamed her dreams went far beyond what she had allowed herself to consider before.

  
She drifted off, and when she awoke it was to darkness and a great furor outside her tent.

  
“The Herald! They found the Herald!”

  
Natalie bolted upright, her mind a fog of too little sleep after too many strong emotions. Her face was swollen and tight. _Hale? They found Hale?_

  
Bolting out of bed still fully clothed, she threw back the flaps of her tent and made for the makeshift infirmary. Haleir’s unconscious form lay prone on a raised cot, his face pale as Mother Giselle hovered over him with a basket of potions.

  
“What do you need?” Natalie asked the older woman.

  
“He is too cold from being exposed for too long. I need blankets, water bladders filled with hot water if you can find them. We need to warm him.”

  
Natalie nodded, quickly stripping a nearby cot of its swollen blankets and tucked them around the elf. She wandered away to find someone with water skins, and when she finally returned Haleir was awake. Mother Giselle spoke to him in hushed tones as Natalie hovered outside, not wanting to interrupt. She watched his face scrunch together, angry and confused, before he got up and walked to the opening of the tent. His eyes scanned the tent city. The sum total of all that was left of the Inquisition.

  
A haunting melody started from within the tent, before Giselle materialized behind the Herald. Her voice was strong and sure, adding much needed hope to bolster their battered dreams. Gradually, a voice joined her and another and then another until nearly every peraon had turned their face to the Maker to sing their devotion. The hymn rose to the sky, carrying their combined faith to the heavens. Haleir stood stoic, his face betraying nothing, his voice not joining the others as they gathered around him. He, a beacon of their hope.

  
Natalie slipped away into the tent, making herself small in the corner. And let the purity of their convictions flow through her.

  
Somehow, tomorrow would be another day and a new beginning for them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This was an intense one to write. I hope you all like it.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who are reading, and who have continued to read. I appreciate all of you so much.


	11. Venti Latte

If she never saw snow again, it would be too soon. She was used to cold weather. Winters in Chicago could be frigid and icy. One particularly memorable one had seen cars lining Lake Michigan covered in inches of ice and snow and unable to move for days. Boston had put her through many long winters during college, and Haven had been constantly buried in the two months she had been there. But this. This was ridiculous. 

Her sodden skirt and long coat clung to her legs as she slogged miserably through the deep powder. The casual clothing she had escaped in was not suited to a days long trek through the mountains, and she was suffering for it. She would kill for a parka and some ski bibs right now.

They were three days out from the ruins of Haven, headed to a vague destination that no one but Hale seemed to know anything about. He led the charge, scouting ahead and often gone for hours at a time. Natalie had seen very little of him since he had been dragged back into camp that nightmarish day after the battle. In fact, she had seen very little of any of the Herald’s companions. Including Solas, who she felt was definitely avoiding her after what had taken place between them. The coward. Life had revolved around the endless drudge of walking and the insurmountable task of keeping the wounded alive long enough to reach wherever is was that they were going.

Sharp spikes of pain jolted through her feet as her frozen toes met the hard ground.  _ This is such bullshit. _ She groused to herself.  _ Goddamn portals. Crazy red crystal demon things. Fucking dragons. Almost died. Now I’m freezing my ass off in the wilderness. If I ever get back to Chicago, I’m getting a pedicure and a steaming hot venti latte and I’m going to sleep for a year. And use a flushing toilet. And take a boiling hot bubble bath.  _ God she missed modern conveniences. 

Her mood had been getting gradually blacker the longer they walked. Body unused to this kind of travel, every one of her muscles ached. The end of each day found her exhausted. Then, there was the matter of her dreams. They were haunted by the smell of burning wood and flesh, the glint of steel as a sword swung toward her for a killing blow, the rush of bright crimson down the chest of the woman she had pulled from the burning cabin, and the utter terror of the desperate flight from the Chantry in the dead of night. Sleep was elusive, and even when her exhausted mind forced it on her she fought it. 

“You look ready to stab the first thing you see in the face.” Varric’s voice cut through her bitter thoughts.

“If I trusted myself to actually stab it in the face and not miss completely, I would try right about now.”

Varric chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think you’d miss completely. Get the foot instead of the head? That seems likely.”

They trudged side by side for a few minutes in silence. She kept catching him glancing at her, his eyes calculating. His scrutiny rubbed along her sharp edges. It was obvious this was not entirely a social visit.

“What, Varric?”

Silence continued for several moments, each one contributing to the black cloud over her head. 

“So, Bunny… Indulge a writer’s curiosity, will you?”

“About what?”

“What’s going on with you and Chuckles?” His eyes were narrow, shrewd, and his mouth twisted up in a half smile.

She went cold. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh? Was I just imagining that tender embrace in the middle of camp the other night, then?”

Heat rushed up her cheeks. “You must have.”

“That’s funny, because I could have sworn I saw you kissing him.”

“Nope, never happened.”

“Well, that’s mighty interesting, because when I asked him about it—“

“What did he say?” Natalie stopped dead, her heart fluttering as she stared at him.

Varric burst out laughing, the force sending him doubling over and slapping his legs for effect. 

Hot anger welled up in her chest. “You’re a dick.” 

Stalking away, she kicked at the hem of her sopping wet skirt angrily as it tangled around her ankles. Snow flew up around her feet as she stomped up the path.

“Bunny! Wait! I was joking!” 

Her response was a choice hand gesture. Natalie wasn’t sure if it meant the same thing in Thedas as it did back home, but she was confident the intent was conveyed clearly. She had had about all she could take of arrogant men lately. Unfortunately for her, all that confidence was ruined exactly four steps later when her ice-laden skirt wrapped itself around her her legs yet again. Snowy ground came up to meet her as she fell hard, her palms hitting rocks and debris. 

Stunned, she stared down at her hands sunk in the snow for several long moments.  _ God… damnit. Perfect. This is perfect.  _ With a huff, she flopped onto her butt and put her head in her hands. Feeling deeply sorry for herself, she scrubbed her palms over her face as she felt hot tears prick at the backs of her eyes.  _ Come on, Nat. Do NOT let all these people see you cry. Get your ass up and put on your big girl panties. _

“You look like you could use some assistance.” A long, slender hand appeared in front of her. 

Natalie’s eyes traveled up the arm to look into Solas’ face. “Of course.” She said, bitterly. “Of course it would be you.” She shook her head. “No need for assistance here. I’m quite enjoying a nice sit on this lovely patch of ground.” 

Varric strode by, his eyebrow raised and his face knowing. She, with utmost maturity, stuck her tongue out at him.

“Is that so? It looks rather chilly and damp from where I’m standing.”

“Oh, just leave me alone!” She snapped, pulling herself up on shaky legs from the ground. “I don’t need you to rescue me. I’m not helpless. I’m not useless, even if all of you seem to think I am.” Her voice rose with every statement as she advanced on him. “I’m a grown ass woman and I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” Her finger met his chest with a hard jab, punctuating her statement. “Stop treating me like a child!” She yelled.

His face was remarkably calm, all things considered. Intense blue eyes studied her, searching her face and boring into her mind. A small muscle worked in his jaw. “Would you walk with me?”

Natalie had been fully prepared with a fresh tirade to meet whatever statement he made but she had not been expecting that one. Her anger deflated, fleeing in the face of his reasonable tone, leaving her feeling all of two inches tall.

“Fine.”

Ancient trees rose around them as they passed through side by side. He walked upright, hands clasped behind his back. The movements of his body were graceful, limbs long and lean with muscle beneath his unassuming garb. Despite her general annoyance, she could still admire how pleasing she found him to look at. Now, if only she wasn’t so irritated at him.

Their feet stirred the whispers of fall leaves as birds chirped from the canopy above. Sunlight filtered through thick branches, casting a pale yellow glow around them. Motes of dust floated in the still air, glittering in the soft daylight.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” The words came out firm. Daring him to deny it.

Silence continued for several more paces. A look at his face told her his mind was moving furiously, the gears spinning behind his intelligent eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of brilliant excuse she was going to hear.

“I admit, I was not sure how to approach you.” 

She sighed, surprised at his open statement. She felt a small measure of the grudge that had taken hold in her chest let go. “Well… I guess I should apologize for kissing you. I let my emotions get the better of me. You’ve never really given me any indication that you would welcome that kind of thing.” 

His feet paused and he turned to look at her, considering. “Did you know that I am the one who found you?”

“Found me?”

“Beneath the Rift that likely transported you here. I thought you dead at first. Perhaps torn apart by the demons from the Rift. There was... so much blood.” 

Eyes downcast, his feet carried him away, further into the forest. 

“When we brought you back, I sat with you as you lay unmoving. We were certain that you would never wake, your injuries were so grave. I studied you. Your spirit was odd, like it didn’t fit here.”

“My spirit doesn’t fit?”

He shook his head. “No, it does not. It is similar, but not the same. It’s like a single dissonant note in a symphony. One musician playing one note sharp instead of natural. I have never seen it’s like.”

Natalie didn’t know how to reply to that. It was such a strange thing to say, that he could sense her spirit. Their trek continued as the trees began to thin. 

“Then you awoke, broken but still fighting. You burned so bright. And then you told me that you were not of this world.” His eyebrows knit together, his voice lost to memory. “The very thought of it was inconceivable. But then again, our Herald had just walked physically through the Fade only weeks before. A feat I had also thought impossible. If he could, then who was to say that you couldn’t also?” 

His eyes burned brightly into her. “The Herald entered the Fade and exited again through the same Rift. But you. You traveled across untold worlds to land in this one. There is no logical or magical explanation for your presence here, but you stand before me. I’ve been trying to puzzle it out since your arrival. I have consulted every spirit I could locate in the Fade. It’s fascinating.”

“Solas, I know that you found this all very interesting from an intellectual perspective but I lost my entire life. I awoke in a completely different  _ universe _ . Almost dead. Certainly traumatized. There were demons pouring from holes in time and space. A huge gaping void in the sky. You all were at war.” Her words choked in her throat. “Magic, demons, elves, dwarves,  _ dragons _ . Those things don’t exist where I’m from. It was like waking in a nightmare, and having no way to fix it. No way to get home.”

Solas’ face fell, his expression serious. When he replied, his voice was barely a whisper. “I think you would be surprised to learn how well I understand that sentiment.”

He turned abruptly and continued on, leaving her standing under the green canopy to stare at his retreating back. Not for the first time, she wondered who he was, what he had been through in his life.

Hurrying in his wake, she caught up to him just as their feet led them outside the shelter of the trees into a grassy meadow atop the plateau of a cliff. A river rushed from the far side, barreling over the precipice with a roar. The strong current sprayed the scenery with mist, leaving a swath of verdant green around the muddy banks. 

Solas stopped a short distance from the edge of the cliff, a sprawling valley beneath his feet. A small hamlet lay in its center, the quaint wooden buildings dotting the rolling green. Smoke curled up from the chimneys, streaking the blue sky with ribbons of white.

His eyes locked onto the scene below, brows knit together and eyes intense.“If I could find a way to send you home, would you go back?”

“Is there a way to send me back? You said that nothing you found even explained how I got here to begin with.” The grass brushed along her legs as she took up a place next to him. 

“I am not certain. With the Breach closed, the pathway may also be. But perhaps there is a way we could open it, or we could utilize one of the Rifts instead.”

“And what is the likelihood that doing so would cause another disaster like the Breach?”

He paused, considering. “I would imagine that the attempt could have adverse effects on the Veil, yes.”

“Then what does it matter if I want to go home?” Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. Of course she wanted to go home. She missed her job, her family, and her life. 

“Of course it matters. If there is a way for you to get back, wouldn’t you fight to find it?”

“Not if it means causing a fucking natural disaster to do it.” She scoffed. “And you said yourself that the chance is slim, so what is the point of having this debate? If we find a way, I can make that decision then. If we can’t…” She paused, her mind drifting to the possibility of living the remainder of her life in this world. What would she do with herself? “If we can’t, then I’d rather not waste my life wishing for something I can’t have.”

She felt the weight of his scrutiny on her as she watched the rush of water over the falls, avoiding his gaze. The endless void of the years stretched out in front of her. Up until now, she had not really allowed herself to consider spending the rest of her life here in Thedas. His words had stripped away denial and left grief in its wake. 

“You continue to surprise me.” His melodic voice broke through her thoughts.

Natalie turned to face him, only to find him standing just before her. The heat of his body radiating to seep through her clothing and rest against her skin. She become very aware of the way his woolen tunic clung across his broad shoulders. The pull of the fabric across muscle drawing her eye. A hand raised ever so slightly to twine a long, dark curl around his finger. She felt the tug on her scalp as the lock slid across his skin.

“I’m not surprising. I’m really pretty predictable.” She leaned into him, inexorably drawn toward his solid presence. 

The fabric of his shirt was rough beneath her fingers as she laid her palm against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. Solas leaned his head forward, winding the tendril of satiny mahogany up and up and up until her cheek rested in his palm. His fingers explored the planes of her face before they delved into her hair. A shiver ran down her spine.

“What have you done to me?” He whispered. 

With a tug, his arm twined around her waist, bringing their bodies flush against each other. Warm breath, sweet with the smell of spices, fanned across her face as his mouth descended on hers. His lips, full and soft, kissed her until she was breathless. He kissed her like she was the only lifeline of a dying man. And she melted. Every inch of her dissolving into him until they were one being. It was a kiss that made her forget she had ever been kissed before. 

Strong hands roved her body as he coaxed her lips open with his tongue. It brushed against hers, rough and wet, and she felt the jolt straight to her center. Her desperate hands clutched around his neck as his wandered down to her hips, his fingers almost punishing in their grip. His hips ground against her as their bodies pressed together, their clothing suddenly unbearable. At last, they broke away. Hearts pounding. Breath coming in short bursts. 

He gazed down at her, eyes half-lidded. “This is a terrible idea.”

Natalie let her forehead fall against his chest, nuzzling her nose into fabric thick with his scent and warmth. She shook her head, looking back up at him. “Maybe it is. But we all may die tomorrow, so why not enjoy the time we have?”

Closing his eyes, he averted his face and gently moved her back, creating distance between them. Space that felt cold in his absence. 

“Solas?”

His head shook. “Things have always been easier for me in the Fade, but I should know better by this point.”

“The Fade?” She was suddenly intensely aware of their green surroundings, the warmth of the air, the lack of the feet of snow they had being trekking through for the past several days. How had she not noticed? She looked up at him, eyes wide with shock. “ _ How?” _

His answering smile was rueful, turning up the corner of his mouth only slightly. “I will explain everything in the morning. You have my word.”

“But…” 

With a jolt, Natalie found herself in her tent, a layer of ice covering her blankets. Annika, one of the other healers, crouched near her feet. She had been shaking her leg.

“Time to get going, Natalie.”

With a groan, Natalie scrubbed her hand across her eyes and give Annika a thumbs up. “I’ll be right there.”

The rustle of the tent flaps signaled the other woman’s departure as Natalie tried to rouse herself. The dream had been so real. 

_ Had it been a dream? _

Somehow, she didn’t think that was accurate. A certain elf was going to have some explaining to do. 


	12. Eye of the Tiger

The sun was just beginning to show its face over the jagged mountain peaks as Natalie emerged from her tent, throwing the flaps open with a slap. Bustling activity already filled the camp as the refugees packed away their supplies in preparation for another long day’s slog through the frigid weather. Natalie had no memory of stopping to make camp or of going to sleep last night. Her recollections of yesterday blurred together, the pieces out of order. She couldn’t tell where the day had ended and the night began.

_ What the FUCK did he do to me?  _

Her brain whirred, trying to recall all the things that she had seen or done in her dreams since she had arrived. Two months of nocturnal adventures were far too many for her to sort through effectively, especially after such a disorienting night. How many had he seen? How many had he influenced, or taken part in? Last night had certainly not been the first time he had featured in a dream of a more risqué nature. Her cheeks burned as she faced all the things he may have witnessed happening in her mind. She felt a sick pit in her stomach. 

To add insult to injury, she found herself suffering from an acute sense of frustration. Her skin felt too small to contain her. A nagging itch had settled deep inside her and she knew there was little she could do to ease it at this particular moment. The situation left her angry and aching. Twice now, she had been pushed away. The rejection cut deep. While she was no blushing virgin, she had to admit it had been a while. It was just her luck that the first guy in months that she felt enough attraction to to let him get in her pants didn’t want her.

_ Leave it to me to travel to an entirely different world and still try to get a piece of some emotionally unavailable ass.  _ She rolled her eyes.  _ Some shit never changes. _

Scanning the camp for her target, her strides were quick. Her feet eating up the ground beneath her. Her teeth clenched firmly together as she spotted the person she was looking for, her eyes boring into him with laser focus. Natalie made a beeline for Solas, who stood speaking to Haleir near the edge of the campsite. Haleir’s gaze fell on her, his face crinkling in confusion. Solas’s head swiveled to look at her moments before her hand closed around his upper arm. 

“We need to talk. Now.”

Pulling firmly, she compelled him to follow her behind a group of tents with a vise grip on his arm. She scanned the area to make sure they didn’t have any spies before she released his arm and rounded on him. His calm blue eyes studied her, his face smooth. If it were not for the tightness of his jaw, she would have believed him entirely unconcerned.

“How many times?” She snapped.

He remained silent, but she could see the cogs working in his mind. 

“How many times did you crawl into my head and root around, Solas?”

His eyes closed, his face crinkling into a pained expression. “The meadow, the spider, and last night.”

With a start, she realized that he had been the hooded figure that had approached her one night many weeks ago. The one she had impulsively kissed, and given a flower to. A deep embarrassment welled in her gut, burning the back of her neck.

“That’s it? Just those three times?”

He nodded. “In the meadow, you called me to you. I had no intention of seeking you out. The night of your magic awakening, I went to find you to try and bring your mind back out of the Fade. Last night, it seemed the most expedient way to have a private conversation with you.”

She shook her head, a snort of disgust leaving her mouth. “So that makes it okay, does it? ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to.’, ‘Oh, I was just trying to help you.’, ‘Oh, it was just more  _ convenient _ .’” 

“I never said it made it acceptable. I understand your feelings on the matter.”

“Dammit, Solas. You crawled into my head! You spied on my private thoughts! And then you  _ hid it _ from me. You could have told me after the first time, but NO. You lied and then decided it was perfectly fine to do it again!”

“I did not lie about it. The topic was never discussed.”

“Don’t play with words. A lie by omission is still a lie!” 

Natalie flung her arm out to her side to punctuate her words. She could feel the anger building at the base of her skull. The sick weight of betrayal weighing on her.

“I  _ trusted _ you.” She spat, her voice low and venomous.

His face fell. “I know. And I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” Her voice went deadpan. “In that case, I guess it’s all okay then.” Her eyes narrowed, a knot in her throat. 

“It was not my wish or intention to invade your privacy. The first time, I merely stumbled across you, laying in the meadow of wildflowers you had created for yourself. I was so surprised to find you there that I did not reveal myself. I realize now that perhaps it would have been prudent to do so.”

Natalie snorted. “You think?”

He continued, heedless of her sarcasm. “I did seek you out the next time. You were unconscious for many hours and I could feel your troubled mind and spirit. It was my thought that I might be able to persuade you to return. When I found you standing over the corpse of a fear demon, covered in blood, my surprise got the better of me. I could have handled it better. ”

“Instead, you watched me have a meltdown and then carried on like it never happened!”

“I decided that it may cause you distress to know that I had seen that part of you.”

“How nice of you to make that decision for me.” Natalie clasped her arms around herself, fingers digging into her biceps. 

“Last night, I merely wished to talk with you. It had been my goal to tell you what was happening. But… circumstances did not present the opportunity.” He cleared his throat, the tips of his long, pointed ears reddening slightly.

Her face burned, remembering what had taken place. The feel of his hands on her. “Do me a favor. Next time you want to talk to me, make sure I’m conscious first. Or better yet, just don’t talk to me at all.”

Without sparing him another glance, Natalie left him standing behind the tents with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her brain felt like a hurricane in her skull. A deep wound festered in her heart. She turned the corner of the tent to find Haleir conspicuously looking anywhere except in her direction. Grinding her teeth together, she stalked past him. It was likely that he and plenty of others had heard the loud exchange behind the tent but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that.

She was done. Done standing by. Done feeling like a victim. On her walk to the wagons that were being used to transport the injured and infirm, she made the decision that no one was going to catch her unaware because of her own ignorance again. She was going to learn every single thing that she could convince someone to teach her. And she was going to start now.

 

* * *

The miles rolled past as the ragged string of travelers trekked ever upward into the mountains. A day passed, and then two, and then a third dawned. Six days they had been dragging wagons and their own weary bones through the frigid landscape. As they walked, and as other obligations allowed, Natalie had taken to cornering anyone she thought might be able to help her. She coerced any information she could out of anyone who was willing to talk to her.

Fiona had been the first. Her abilities as a spirit healer were what Natalie aspired to. Unfortunately, that was a prospect easier said than done. The revelation that the strongest of healing abilities were granted by communing with a spirit instead of the mage’s own magical ability had been a disappointment. Fiona had explained to her that she would need to gain the trust of one before it would assist her; a process that could take years. The conversation had left Natalie deflated.

Apparently, one did not need any of that to do basic healing though. Fiona was obliging in passing on a few tips to augment what Natalie had already read, as were a few of the other Redcliffe mages. They sat around the campfire late one night, trading stories of fumbling early attempts and failed magical experiments. The evening ended with Natalie a few skills stronger. From Fiona, the basics of magically healing small cuts and bruises. And from a young man with kind brown eyes who introduced himself as Marcus, the beginning of a decent grasp on chain lightning. She wouldn’t be doing any of it well yet, especially with no staff of her own, but she had a foundation. She fell asleep that night with electricity buzzing along her fingertips and wolves howling in her dreams.

Iron Bull came next. He found himself cornered against one of the tents with a tiny brunette badgering him into teaching her some basic self-defense. It took some doing, but she eventually got him to agree. He and Krem enthusiastically traded war stories with her as they walked. There was a particularly scandalous one involving Iron Bull sleeping with some nobleman’s wife in order to secure details on some trade agreements that had her laughing until she had to stop to hold her sides. After stopping for the evening, she found herself dressed in a borrowed pair of pants and repeatedly on her back with Krem pinning her down and Bull laughing from the sidelines.

“Aw, come on now! I’m beginning to think this is just foreplay!” Bull howled.

Natalie dusted herself off only to find herself back on the ground with bruises on her ass only minutes later. She stood, rubbing her abused backside, and felt the weight of eyes on her. When she turned, there was no one there. 

Shaking her head, she squared her feet and gestured to Krem. “Come on. Don’t go soft on me now.” 

He grinned at her, charging forward. With an unflattering squawk, she managed to kick him in the shin and run away. Laughter followed closely behind. 

She awoke that sixth day bruised and sore, her body protesting every movement as she rose from her cot. Dorian was her target today. She had a mind to pick his brain on the subject of spirits, a topic that she would have asked a certain other person for guidance on if he hadn't proven himself a manipulative jerk. Even after a couple of days, her anger was an ever-present simmer in the back of her mind. Thankfully, he had been absent since their confrontation. She didn’t know where he had been hiding himself, but she found she didn’t really care. Even the thought of him made her blood boil.

Emerging from her tent into the wintery air, Natalie stretched her aching muscles. Her dirt caked skirt scratched against her legs. How she wished for clean, warm clothes and a long bath. She was sure that the smell was less than pleasant, although her abused nose had long since become used to it.

An arm draped around her shoulders, making her jump nearly out of her skin. Haleir’s eyes glittered down at her in the early morning sun. 

“Well, good morning, Herald. I see you’ve deigned to speak to the little people again.”

Haleir laughed. “Feeling neglected?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’ve been very productive without you to distract me with all your whining.” Natalie grinned up at him.

“I heard you’ve been shaking everyone down and trapping them in dark corners to force them into sharing all their secrets with you.”

She gasped, feigning shock. “Who would dare spread such slanderous lies? It was Bull, wasn’t it?”

Haleir slapped a hand on her shoulder with a burst of laughter. “It absolutely was.” His steady arm compelled her forward. “I figured I would be the sacrificial lamb and let you harass me today, before you can get to anyone else.”

Natalie looked up at him in actual shock this time. “But aren’t you too busy?”

He shrugged. “I’m just scouting, and there hasn’t been anything dangerous up here so far. Plus, I hear you’re getting pretty proficient with barriers. Anything big and bad comes along, you just hide behind one and I’ll take care of it with the others.”

She felt a flash of annoyance at his words, but she quickly brushed it away. She was so tired of feeling like a burden. “That seems like a… like a bad idea.”

“How about I bribe you with promises of Dalish legends and teaching you to track?”

Natalie bit her lip, still hesitating. The promise of escaping from the mass of humanity for while was so tempting. But what if they stumbled across something dangerous? She was in no way confident in her ability to defend herself yet. “Why me? I’m sure there is someone more competent who can go with you.”

“I mean, I was just trying to do you a favor because you’re my friend and you look like you’re going stir crazy the past couple of days. If you’d rather plod along with everyone else, I’m happy to leave you here. I’m very busy and important, you know.”

Natalie worried her lip between her teeth for a moment before making an impulsive decision. “Okay, let’s go. But if I die, I’m going to haunt your ass until the end of time.”

“I think that’s fair.” 

His face took on a boyish grin as he pulled her towards the Quartermaster and shoved a bundle into her arms. 

“Here, we managed to locate some pants for you. Get dressed and come on.”

Natalie gratefully wrapped herself in the much cleaner and more comfortable clothing before emerging to find Halier outside holding a staff. It was tall and made of dark wood, with a wrapped oval and barbed black head at the top. He smiled and held it out to her.

“It’s nothing special. Just a basic one that Harritt managed to save before we had to escape Haven. But it’s yours.”

She took it gingerly. The smooth wood cool against her fingers. She could feel the familiar buzz of magic along her nerve endings. “Oh great, now I’m really going to set myself on fire.”

Haleir laughed, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll have one of the others carry a bucket to put you out when you do.”

Natalie laughed, settling her free hand on his arm. “Thank you, Hale. That would be very thoughtful of you.”

They set off with Warden Blackwall and Solas in tow, much to her dismay. Her eyes briefly met his as she and Haleir approached them. His face was as calm and impassive as always, which sent a bolt of fiery anger up her spine. How dare he be so nonchalant.  _ I’m an adult. I can do this. I will just ignore him. _

She glanced at Hale. Clearly, he had known who was coming with him today. She wondered what kind of game he was playing.

“Herald, do you not think it inadvisable to bring someone so inexperienced along with us?” Solas’ voice caught her attention.

_ Or not. _

“Hale thought it best to have someone trustworthy at his back.” She sniped at him, heat spreading across the back of her neck.

Blackwall snorted, trying to hold in a laugh and failing. 

“Solas, I appreciate your concern but I am confident it will be fine.” Haleir eyed the two of them as he spoke. 

She stared daggers at Solas as he looked back at her. The tension hung thick in the air between them. His face softened slightly, but she was finding it difficult to read his expression. It looked suspiciously like concern.

Solas’ face did, however, made his disapproval clear, but he gave no further argument as they left. Haleir set off at a brisk pace with Natalie in tow. The other two hung back at a distance, watching the trail behind them. Natalie was grateful for the space, and the relief from the awkward tension. 

“What are you playing at, Hale?” She hissed at him, as soon as their companions were out of earshot.

Haleir’s face was steady as he looked at her. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I need you to be able to be within striking distance without killing each other. You don’t have to be friends, but I can’t have some kind of in-fighting going on.”

“There won’t be in-fighting. I had every intention of forgetting that he exists.”

“Natalie, that’s not constructive either, and I think you know it. You two were never going to confront it, so I forced the issue. Now that initial awkward moment is past and we can all move on. You’re free to hate him all you want, as long as you can be an adult about it.”

Natalie had to admit that his point was valid. She had been studiously avoiding the other elf since their argument. Now that she had faced him down, she felt far more confident in being able to carry on in close proximity.

“Fair enough.”

“Great!” His reply was cheerful, but his face serious. 

She followed him, spacing her steps out so that her feet landed in the hollows in the snow left by his feet. She could hear the Warden and Solas behind them, the snow crunching beneath their feet. The four of them traveled in relative silence for a time, until Hale started pointing out small things and imparting bits of knowledge to her. A certain type of track in the snow. How to tell which direction the animal had gone, and how to place her body between the tracks and the sun so that her shadow didn’t obscure the small details. How to use scratches and broken off twigs as trail signs. How to use a stick stuck in the ground to tell what direction she was heading. How to build a simple snare from a length of thin rope. He was a wealth of knowledge about life in the wilderness. 

Before she knew it, it was midday and the sun burned bright overhead. The day had been uneventful, but she was glad to be free of the crowd of unwashed bodies she had been stuck in for days. Hale had long since finished feeding her tips on hunting and bushcraft and had instead started asking Natalie questions about her life in Chicago. 

“So you don’t have parents?”

Natalie shrugged. “I had parents. I never knew my mom. She died when I was a baby and my dad raised me by himself. He died a few years ago after a long illness.”

“I’m so sorry. And there’s no one else?”

“Not really. I worked really long hours. I’ve never had too much time for serious relationships or pets.” She shrugged. “I’m sure my boss and my coworkers notified someone that I am missing and my best friend Julia has definitely been raising hell, but there is not really a lot of close family to speak of.”

“I can’t imagine living among so few people.” Hale’s forehead wrinkled, his expression sympathetic.

Natalie laughed. “It’s not really the same at home. Lots of people live alone. We have…” She tried to decide how to explain the internet and cell phones to him, but thought better of it. That was a whole can of worms she didn’t feel up to getting into, even if she could come close to explaining how it worked. “We have methods of very fast communication. So you don’t have to actually see someone to talk to them.”

His eyes narrowed, clearly skeptical, but he didn’t respond. 

The pair of them continued on, climbing higher up a steep rise. Natalie could feel the muscles in her thighs burning, and her lungs struggling for air. Her breath coming in tiny pants. The staff proved invaluable to helping her navigate the harsh terrain. Solas and Blackwall had caught up to them at some point, and she could feel the eyes on her back as she climbed.

Only the sound of harsh breathing and crunching snow broke the stillness as the four of them scaled the arduous slope. Haleir stumbled up to the top. Natalie could see him pause and then bound forward, tension filling his body. She scrambled up the last of the way, eager to find out what he was looking at. 

As she crested the rise, a valley unfolded below her with the towering mountain peaks surrounding it. Jagged rock faces filled the basin. At the center, a massive walled castle rose from the craggy landscape, regal in its stillness. The only entrance, a bridge situated atop towering columns, was wreathed in fog. It gave the whole keep the impression that it was floating in the clouds. Tattered flags still waved from atop the towers. Natalie’s jaw dropped open and she felt a small breath of wonder escape her. Even from here, she could see that the castle was in need of repairs. But the sight was truly one to behold.

“We’ll be able to see Corypheus coming from miles away.” The Warden stepped up beside her, the three of them lining the peak of the trail. 

“It’s perfect.” Haleir’s voice was soft, reverent. 

“What are we going to call it?” Natalie asked, eyes still drinking in the beauty of the sight before her.

“Skyhold.” Solas came to rest just next to her, his eyes burning into her. “It’s called Skyhold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all you fantastic people! I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who are reading, and to those who are commenting and bookmarking and subscribing. You all are wonderful! I hope you're enjoying the story. 
> 
> Drop me a comment and let me know what your favorite moment has been so far!


	13. Crazy Cat Elf

Skyhold, as it turned out, was far more of a ruin that it first appeared. The view from the trail had been shrouded in fog and mystery, hiding the sight of crumbling walls and hallways choked with debris. It took a full day to herd the Haven refugees across the valley and into the keep. Natalie looked around the courtyard, clogged full of tents, in dismay. She had been hoping to sleep under a real roof but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. They had been relegated to their tents for the time being, until they could clear enough space for everyone inside. That decision had been made a week ago. Hopefully, a roof and a bed wasn't far off. Fingers crossed.

She schlepped a bucket of water across the cobbled ground, droplets splashing her feet and the hem of her pants. Mother Giselle had sent her for it to bathe the soldiers who were still injured and remained in their care. A couple of them were not going to last much longer, a fact that drove a little spike of regret into her gut. She reached the blazing campfire and set the bucket on the ground, dusting her hands off on her clothing. Setting a big metal cauldron over the flames, she emptied the bucket into it to let it boil. 

Natalie turned to find the lengths of cloth for bandages and stumbled back, her hand to her throat. A thin blonde man in an absurd hat stood behind her, his pale, watery eyes peering straight into her soul. His face was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she had seen it before. 

“She does not fit. A single thread pulled loose. Hanging. Ready to be snapped off. If she is strong, maybe they will not notice.”

A rush of cold froze her belly as she listened to his words. “Excuse me?” Who was this guy?

“Oh, I started that badly. Should I make you forget?”

Natalie waved her arms. “No. Absolutely not. Do not make me forget anything.”

The blonde man stared at her, his face blank. “The hurt shines bright. Bitter. Burning. You fear to open yourself up again. Too many eyes inside your head. It is his fault, but he regrets it.”

Mouth hanging open, she stared at him in shock.  _ What on Earth…  _ As the shock subsided, she could feel the anger take over. Her teeth clenched and she could feel the vein throbbing in her temple. 

“I am not having this conversation with a total stranger. I don’t know if he put you up to this, or what. But you can tell him this is a poor effort.”

He cocked his head to the side, his brow wrinkling softly. “What do you mean? No one sent me.”

Natalie turned abruptly and left him standing there alone near the fire, not wanting to wait for another bizarre, intrusive observation. What was it with people trying to get in her head recently? She heaved a sigh as she excused herself, letting Annika know that the water was boiling for the bandages. 

She had to get out of here, the roiling maelstrom beneath her skin was too much to handle. The stairs up to the battlements were steep and still dotted with debris. She dodged the fallen rocks as she climbed, picking her way up carefully. The sounds of voices and the clash of metal as the soldiers ran through their drills gradually faded, leaving her in relative peace for the first time in weeks. Her feet crossed the stone to the edge, the low wall crumbling before her. 

Her elbows met smooth stone as she leaned forward, her chin resting in her palms. Cold wind kissed her skin as she closed her eyes and let her mind drift, searching for her calm. The time since their arrival at Skyhold had been hectic, Natalie working herself nonstop in an effort to distract herself from her unsettled emotions. Bruises, cuts, smashed fingers and toes. All had been plentiful as the soldiers trained and worked to clear the worst of the rubble from the main keep. Healing magic had the side benefit of being incredibly tiring, even with the use of a staff to channel the energy. She fell into her bedroll every night and was asleep before her head hit the pillow. 

Activity had kept her mind busy, leaving her no time to think about a certain incident. She had pushed it all from her mind. Between healing, working with the other Mages, and sparring sessions with Krem and Bull, she had not thought about Solas in days. The nasty reminder of the broken trust between them was a shock to the system, a wound that had popped open a stitch before it was healed.

The crunch of gravel came from behind her. “I hear you met Cole.”

Natalie kept steady, eyes glued to the landscape beyond the castle. “I assume that you mean the blonde guy who just tried to talk to me about extremely personal issues in the middle of a crowded place?”

Hale chuckled softly as he came to stand beside her. “Yeah, that would be the one.”

“Then yes, I met Cole. It was delightful.” Her voice was deadpan, unamused.

“Cullen told me that he saw the interaction and that you looked distressed. I felt like I needed to explain some things about Cole.” Hale leaned his hip against the wall and crossed his feet, looking down at her. “Cole… isn’t human.”

Natalie shifted, watching him from her slumped over position. “Isn’t human?”

“Cole is, as far as we can tell, a spirit in human form.”

She straightened her spine, her eyebrows raising. “What does  _ that _ mean?”

Hale rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “We don’t honestly know. He’s a spirit of Compassion who somehow gained a body, and not through possession. Even Solas doesn’t quite know how it happened.”

Natalie made a sound of disbelief deep in her throat. “You know how insane that sounds, right?”

Hale laughed. “Yes, I’m aware. Doesn’t make it less true, though.” 

He ran his hand over his face, shadows under his eyes. The stress of everything was obviously getting to him. Natalie thought he looked like he should sleep for the next week. 

“I guess all I was trying to tell you is that, whatever Cole said to you he was just trying to help.” His warm hand came down to rest on her shoulder. “His message gets lost in translation sometimes but his intentions are good.”

Natalie heaved a sigh and shifted into him, resting her head against his shoulder. A warm arm fell around her. “He didn’t say anything bad. He just forced me to face something I was trying to forget.”

“He tends to do that.”

The sun was just beginning to sink in the sky as they stood there in silence. The first tinges of pink starting to stain the horizon. Natalie felt the warmth of another body along her side. The comfort of simple touch was a powerful force, one that she had missed in recent months. Her heart swelled in her chest. 

“I love you, Hale. It’s really a shame I’m not attracted to you in the slightest.”

His soft laugher came from above her head as his hand squeezed her shoulder. “Not in the slightest. Not that you’re not attractive for a woman, you just don’t quite have the right parts for me. But I love you anyway.”

The meaning of his words sunk in.  _ Oh…  _ “Yeah, I can see how that would be an obstacle.”

“Just slightly.” His thumb rubbed her arm. “You get me more than any of the rest of them do. Your life was stolen and changed completely by the Breach too. You’re the only one who even remotely understands how that feels.”

She shifted to look up him. His green eyes sparkled as he gazed down at her with a soft smile. “I hope you know that I consider you my best friend, Hale.”

“I hope you know I feel the same way. Maybe after this is all over, we can retire to the woods somewhere and take in a dozen cats. Live out our lives in platonic bliss.” 

The mental image of Hale sleeping cuddled up with a pack of kittens made her snort. “That sounds like as good a plan as any.”

Natalie laid her cheek back against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. Silence fell softly, resting like a warm blanket across them. They watched as the sun began its final fall into the mountains and the stars began to spread across the sky above them in a glittering canopy.

She felt him stir. “We should go get some rest. I have to leave for Crestwood in the morning.”

“What’s in Crestwood?”

“Varric has a friend who may know what is going on with the Grey Wardens. We’re going to meet her contact.”

“Will you be gone long?” 

“Probably about two weeks. It’s ten days of travel alone. I’m hoping there won’t be many delays. I’ve heard the weather there is miserable.”

“That sounds awful.’ The thought of traveling for two weeks when they had only been in Skyhold for one was absurd.

“I’m sure it will be. Unfortunately, duty calls.” He grimaced. “Come, lethallan, I’ll walk with you back to your tent.”

 

* * *

Hale left with Varric, Blackwall and Vivienne the morning after their talk on the battlements. Skyhold remained a hive of activity in his absence. Josephine busied herself directing the soldiers and a small army of workman that had started to arrive slowly over the week following. Hallways once choked with stone and debris were cleared and passable again. Scaffolding went up all around and repairs commenced on the roof of the main keep and the collapsed bridge spanning the courtyard. Slowly but surely, the beauty of the keep was uncovered under the years of neglect.

The patients left from the battle slowly either recovered, or didn’t. They built two funeral pyres on the rocks below the keep only hours after the Herald departed to cremate the two who had been afflicted with the worst injuries. Natalie watched the flames lick the sky as the assembled crowd sang softly to send their souls off back to the Maker. The two of them had held on for so long, and endured so much, only to pass once safety was reached.

With the load in the makeshift clinic decreased, she found herself with more time on her hands than she had had previously. She started to train daily with Krem and the Chargers, waking up early to greet the dawn in the training yard. Her movements were still slow and clumsy and she left with bruises covering her body more often than not, but she slowly improved. She could at least hold one of them off for a few moments instead of immediately ending up on the ground. Natalie didn’t think she would ever be a particularly effective fighter, but she didn’t need to be. She just needed to know how to protect herself if she had to.

The rest of her time was spent pouring over texts on magic and practicing spells in a secluded corner where she couldn’t embarrass herself. Lightning seemed to come far easier to her than flame had, and she had some success experimenting with storm magic. The feel of electricity on her fingertips was intoxicating, power sizzling along her skin. Being able to use magic at all was still surreal to her. Every time the sparks lit from her hands, her heart turned over in her chest. It was in turns exhilarating and terrifying. Accepting that her current reality was so very, very different from her old one was a hard pill to swallow. 

The two weeks Hale had said they would be gone came and went. Soon, they had been in Skyhold a full month. The workman had cleared all of the main hall and had started on a couple of the towers and cleaning out the rooms overlooking the gardens. Josephine had informed her that one of these was to be hers, at the request of Hale. Despite her protests, she found her tent dismantled and her things moved into a small room with sparse furnishings and a view of the mountains beyond the castle. The feel of a real mattress on a wide, comfortable bed beneath her was absolute heaven after weeks spent on a bedroll. 

The following morning, after nursing her wounds from training, Natalie sought out the library she had been told was attached to the throne room. She had not spent any time at all in the main part of the keep, but the promise of digging through stacks of books was enough to spur her to stumble blindly through the doors seeking them. Emerging from the doorway connecting the garden to everything else, she peered around the great hall. Tall scaffolds dominated either side of the room, but the floor was clear and the room usable even with the construction. She crossed and opened the first door she saw, hoping for the best.

Stumbling through the doorway, she found herself in a large, round room. Candles burned, creating a warm, hazy light. Jars of paint, buckets of white powder and water, and drop cloths littered the floor against the far wall, just beneath the expanse of a massive mural of sweeping lines and vivid colors. She stepped forward, looking up the the stark lines depicting the Breach erupting from a sky filled with watching red eyes and striking the mountains below. The image was striking and she stood staring at it, her stomach clenching just like the first time she had left her cabin to see the  hole in the sky in person. The depiction was harsh, and terrifyingly beautiful.

A soft clearing of a throat startled her from her thoughts. To her right, Solas stood at a desk overflowing with books and papers. His eyes were locked on her, intense and clear blue. A smudge of dark ink marred his cheek, standing out against his pale skin and the light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Oh.” She breathed.

“Can I help you find something?” 

His smooth baritone sounded strange to her ears. It had been weeks since she had really spoken to him. The first pangs of sadness hit her along with the warm twinges of something else entirely.

She cleared her throat. “I’m looking for the library.”

He pointed behind her. “Up those stairs.”

Natalie nodded. “Thank you.” 

She turned to leave, but hesitated. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes moved between his tall form and the mural on the wall. “Are you the one painting the mural?”

He studied her a moment before nodding. “In a manner of speaking. It is a fresco. But it is my creation, yes.”

“It’s beautiful.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she exited briskly up the stairs. She didn’t particularly want to get in to a discussion with him, so a speedy exit had seemed the best strategy. 

The library spanned a circular mezzanine above the atrium below, shelves lining the walls. Books lay stacked around the floor, waiting to be properly catalogued and shelved. Her brain buzzed, instantly spoiled for choice. Scanning the titles on the nearest shelf, she grabbed a slim brown volume embossed with “Dalish Myth and Collected Truth Against” on the spine. Hale had told her a bit about the beliefs of his people but she thought she would like to know more. 

Flipping through the pages of the book, she scanned the words. It seemed like the book was written to refute the beliefs of the Dalish. Not exactly what she was looking for, but it could still be worthwhile. She tucked the book under her arm and continued looking, waiting to see if anything caught her eye. What she really needed was books on magic, or spirits, or the Fade. She crouched down, digging through the bottom shelf. 

Absorbed in her search, she didn’t hear the footsteps approach her until a tall body stood right next to her. 

“Looking for something, hmm?”

Jolting, she knocked her forehead against the hard, wooden shelf. “Shit!” She hissed, pressing her palm against the stinging pain in her head while she steadied herself with the other hand.

“Take it easy now. I’ll have an angry elf after my blood if you get hurt because of me.” Dorian looked down at her, his expression almost pitying.  

Natalie snorted, rubbing her forehead. Hale would definitely not hurt someone over her. “Your tombstone will read, ‘Here lies Dorian Pavus. Done in by a bookshelf to the forehead.’ How embarrassing.”

“Precisely. Now you understand why I need you to be far more careful with yourself on my watch.”

Natalie straightened, laughing. “The good news for you is that I have an exceptionally thick skull.”

“Wonderful! Now, what exactly were you digging for down there?” He crossed his arms across his chest, the metal on his clothing glinting in the sunlight streaming in from the nearby window.

She shrugged. “Anything really. I had not had a chance to venture up here since they got it cleared out, and I was running out of books to borrow from the other mages. What do you suggest?” 

“Well, the library here is woefully inadequate, but I can give you a few things that may pique your interest.”

“Great! Lead on.”

She followed him around the shelves as he nattered on about how superior the libraries back home in Minrathous were. He would periodically pull a book down and peer at it before shoving it back on the shelf or thrusting it into her arms. Soon, she was weighed down by a stack a foot high. 

“Dorian, I can’t carry any more!” She yelped as he tossed another tome on top of the ones already clutched to her chest. 

“If you say so. That should give you a good start.” He dusted his palms together, a look of disgust flitting across his handsome features. 

Natalie hefted her burden over to a nearby table and read the titles. Books on Thedosian history, magic, codices on the Andrastian faith. 

“Are they any books on the Fade?” 

Dorian studied her intently for a moment before speaking. “I have not seen many here. You are aware who you should ask about that particular topic, yes?” 

Natalie felt the burn of annoyance and embarrassment along the back of her neck. “I would rather not.” 

His eyes were knowing, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “I’ll have to have a look around. See what I can find.”

Natalie nodded. “That would be wonderful. I would really appreciate anything you could find.”

“Certainly. I will have it sent to you, if I do.”

Natalie took a deep breath before lifting her heavy stack of books off the table. “I’m going to go take these back to my room. I will see you later, Dorian.”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Indeed, I do.”

After an awkward sprint through the bottom floor of the rotunda and a quick trip to her room to drop off the heavy load, Natalie headed to the newly opened Herald’s Rest tavern for some dinner. When she returned to her room some hours and a few ales later, she found a book with a battered green cover propped up against her door. Her tipsy brain muddled over where it had some from, her brows drawn together sharply. 

_ That’s funny. I didn’t leave that there. _

Plucking it off the ground, the golden inscription on the cover caught her eye. ‘Fade and Spirits Mysterious’ by Ferdinand Genitivi. With a gasp, she realized Dorian must have dug it up for her somewhere. She pulled her door open and made her way to her bed, the only surface in the room worth sitting on. As she opened the cover, a sheet of folded paper fluttered into her lap. Gingerly, she unfolded it to see a looping, heavy script on the page.

  


_ Natalie,  _

_ Dorian informed me that you were looking for information on the Fade. As always, your thirst to educate yourself is a credit to you. _

_ I have enclosed the attached volume in hopes that you can find some of what you seek within its pages. _

_ Know that my knowledge is at your disposal. Anytime you need it. I hope that you will feel comfortable approaching me with questions in the future, although I understand your hesitation to do so now. _

_Dar’eth Shiral,_  
_Solas_

  


Natalie studied the ornate handwriting splashed across the page with a flutter in her chest. The heavy weight of the leather-bound book in her lap grounded her in the present. Solas could have left the book and let her think it was Dorian who provided it, but he hadn’t. He had made a point to tell her that it was him. That he was the one arming her with the knowledge that could be used against him and his abilities. She couldn’t decide whether she thought it was his ego that would not let him leave her with the impression that someone else had given her what she wanted, or if it was an act of contrition. Maybe it was both.

She lay back, clutching the parchment to her chest, but sleep was a long time in coming.


	14. Rose Petal Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter than normal, but I felt like this one should stand on its own...

Sweat rolled down her forehead as she focused on the gash along the young soldier’s rib cage. The wound was deep, and dark red blood welled up between her finger as she pressed them against the edges. A cry of pain came from between the gritted teeth of the young man, his brown eyes begging her to make it stop. 

“Shhh, It’s okay. I’m almost done.” She murmured absently, her voice a gentle sing-song.

Warm light poured from her fingers into his abdomen. She could feel a nagging headaches beginning behind her eyes as the mana spilled from her fingertips. With a crawling slowness, the edges of the wound began to come together. The deepest recesses healed first, the flesh grabbing and holding as her magic reconnected blood vessels and knit torn muscle. Rubbing the side of her face absently against the shoulder of her dress, she cleared away the droplets of moisture gathering there before they could drip down.

“Are you okay?” She asked the soldier. 

He nodded weakly at her, his face pale and drawn with pain.

“Almost there. Just hang on a little longer.”

With a final rush of magic, the outer skin stitched together, leaving a pale, shining scar behind. Natalie fell back to sit on her heels, scrubbing the back of her sleeve across her face. She felt utterly drained after the marathon session of magic use. A patrol had been brought in a couple hours prior after having been attacked by demons. They had been split over the three of them currently present who were capable of healing magic, but Natalie was unaccustomed to such prolonged use. She felt like a dish towel that had been wrung dry. Her head pounded, and her muscles shook. Thankfully, her patient was the last of the group. 

A soft touch landed on her shoulder. “Go, I will take it from here.” The kind face of Mother Giselle hovered just behind her. “You need to rest.”

Finding she lacked the energy to respond, she only nodded before rising from the ground. 

Natalie stopped to wash the blood off of her hands and deposit her splattered apron into one of the waiting laundry baskets before stumbling out into the cool night air. It was late. The moon was high in a sky glittering with more stars than she could ever remember seeing. The absence of light pollution was one of the best things about Thedas, but she had neither the time or energy to admire the sky tonight. Skyhold was quiet, the only sound the faint music of the bard in the tavern floating on the air. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply. Let the chill air sink into her lungs and clear them of the stench of blood. 

_ Ah, that’s so much better. _

A loud rumble interrupted her quiet moment as her stomach protested the long hours since her last meal and the outpouring of energy she had used in the healing. Natalie rubbed her hand along her abdomen, weighing her options. Her body was screaming at her to go back to her room and sleep, but she knew that her stomach would never let her rest unless she put something in it. With a sigh, she plodded across the courtyard toward the kitchen’s side door. Stairs had never seemed such an obstacle before as she drug herself up them. 

The kitchen was dim and quiet as she entered, missing the bustle of the daylight hours. Natalie peered around the room, making sure she was alone. The threat of being caught by the cook was very real. Cranky on her best day, the woman was downright aggressive on her worst. She had no wish to get caught red-handed rifling through the woman’s domain. Trying to remain as quiet as possible, she rummaged around on the counters. The remains of a loaf of bread sat nearby, a little stale but still edible. Her rumbling stomach seemed to have no issue at all. Grabbing it and locating a knife, she scanned the area for something to go with it.

A creak behind her made her heart beat into her throat. Whirling around, she tucked her spoils behind her back as the door swung open. Her pulse thundered. Her tired brain making a mountain out of the situation. Natalie was sure she had been caught, and was going to be summarily drawn and quartered by the kitchen dictator. Instead of the plump cook with her shrill voice, a tall figure with a bald head came through the door holding a plate in one hand. His eyes widened as he stopped dead in the doorway, obviously as surprised to see her as she was him.

Her heart still racing, she let out a breath of relief. “Oh god, you scared me.”

Natalie crossed to the huge, wooden table that dominated the center of the room and set the loaf down. “I was afraid I was about to get in so much trouble for being in here.”

A chuckle drifted from the doorway. “Mistress Tyson is an exceedingly terrifying woman.”

“You’re not joking. I saw her berate the kitchen boy the other day for handing her the wrong knife.”

“Thankfully, she seems to have taken a liking to me. I have yet to be on the receiving end of her formidable temper.” 

Solas crossed the room and set his plate on the table with a clink. The silence between them stretched thin as they stared at each other. Natalie found herself, once again, annoyed by his calm demeanor. He never seemed too ruffled by anything that happened. She wanted him to be groveling, begging for forgiveness. 

It startled her to realize that annoyance was all she felt. The blind rage of a few weeks ago had dulled into irritation and a strange sort of wistful sadness. She admitted to herself that she did miss their long conversations and the sound of his soothing baritone spinning fantastical tales. Watching his face alight with passion as he rattled on about one topic or another. The loss of their friendship was a blow, and she mourned it.

_ You will not forgive him.  _ She bundled up all of those thoughts and locked them away deep inside.

She hardened herself, narrowing her eyes. “You’re up late.” 

“I could come to the same conclusion about you. I had not expected to find someone else frequenting the kitchen at this hour.”

“We had an injured patrol. I worked through dinner helping to heal them.” She stared at the load of bread in front of her, her exhausted brain forgetting what she was supposed to do with it. Her mind was a black hole. 

With a groan, she doubled over, her elbows hitting the table. She scrubbed her hands over her face, closing her eyes. Her head pounded with a dull ache that started behind her eyes and continued clear down into her jaw. “Why am I so bad at this? None of the other mages get worn out like this.” She whined.

 

Natalie heard him shuffle around the kitchen, and the splashing of water. “I imagine that many of them had similar feelings when they were learning. It will take time for you to learn how best to conserve your energy when you are casting a spell. It’s a balance. Only practice will show you where that tipping point is for you.”

The clink of glass on wood startled her eyes open. Solas stood across from her, a clean plate and a jar with some sort of red jelly inside on the table before him. He reached out and slid the bread and knife over the wooden planks to him. Natalie studied his long fingers as he sliced the bread with even strokes. Elegant. She tilted her head to rest her cheek against one palm. The thought of someone slicing bread striking her as elegant made her smile.  _ What an odd thought. I’m obviously going nuts from lack of sleep and coffee. _

“I just don’t understand why I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve been working on this for  _ weeks _ .”

“Patience, da’len. Magic is a lifetime pursuit. One that not even the oldest of mages can pretend to know everything about.”

The cork popped out of the jar and the sharp noise focused her mind back on what he was doing. Glistening red crept along the slices of bread he had arranged on the plate. He was generous, applying a thick layer. He finished, setting the knife down along the edge of the plate and popping the cork back into the jar. 

Sliding the plate across the table to her, he paused to examine his hand. A glob of the thick, red jelly coated the side of his thumb. Almost absently, he put his mouth to his hand, tongue darting out to lick the jam from his skin. Natalie felt heat crawl up from underneath her collar as her mouth went dry. She was certain now that she was losing her mind.  _ What the fuck, Nat? Don’t check him out! _

Clearing her throat, she straightened. “What’s this?”

“I guess you could consider it a peace offering.” He held her gaze, his eyes intent. “Natalie… I am not good at this.”

She snorted. “You can say that again.”

He closed his eyes briefly, a pained expression coming over it. “I have been on my own for a long time. Most of my interactions being in the Fade. I am not used to considering how another person will feel about my actions.” He paused, drawing in a long breath. “Please do not mistake my meaning, I am not trying to excuse what happened. Only provide context.”

“Context.” She replied, her voice flat.

“Indeed.” He nodded briefly. “What I am trying to say is that I am sorry. I regret what happened and the choices that I made. I should have explained more thoroughly about Fade dreams, so you would understand them. I should have informed you that I entered one of yours, and then not done so again without your permission.”

“Yes, you should have.” Natalie could feel her face become stone. Her brain felt far too heavy for this conversation right now. 

“It was a violation. Of you. Of your privacy. Of your trust. Ir abelas, Natalie. I will do my best to ensure that it does not happen again.”

She peered at him for a moment, heaving a deep sigh. “Why now, Solas? It’s been weeks and you’ve just gone on like nothing happened. And then you sent me a book with a cutesy little note in it.”

“I was waiting for you to want to hear my apology.” 

A rod of steel shot up her spine. “What the hell does  _ that _ mean?”

He tucked his hands behind his back, assuming his familiar stance. “You made it quite obvious that you had no wish for my company. I did not wish to force it upon you, even to issue an apology.”

Natalie felt her anger deflate a bit. She could see why he might see it that way. “Solas, just for future reference, apologies are generally the most effective when they are sincere and given immediately.”

‘Would you have listened?”

Natalie considered his words. She had to admit that he had a point. There was no way she would have heard him out on anything in the past weeks. As it stood, he had caught her in a moment of weakness tonight. She was incredibly stubborn when she put her mind to it.

“Honestly, probably not.” She admitted, grudgingly. “Alright. I accept your apology. But don’t think that it lets you off the hook. Trust is earned, and I give it way too easily the first time. That won’t happen again. You’re on probation.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“Great, then we have an understanding.”

He smiled softly. “Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to make amends.”

Natalie eyed him as she picked up a slice of bread and took a bite. A sweet and strangely floral flavor burst across her tongue.  _ Floral? _ She took another bite. Delicious, but strange.

“What on earth is that?” 

Solas picked up the jar. “Ah, rose petal jam. Mistress Tyson hides it away for special occasions.”

“Do I want to know how you know where the cook’s ‘secret stash’ is?” She cocked her eyebrow.

“Probably not.” His face was serious, but there was a twinkle in his eye that belied his words.

Natalie laughed, shoving a piece of bread in her mouth and letting the sweet jam settle on her tongue. She made a groan of appreciation deep in her chest. Picking up the plate, she raised it at him in a salute.

“Ma serannas, Solas. Thanks for feeding me. See you around.” She headed for the door, throwing the words over her shoulder. 

“Da’rahn, Natalie.”


	15. Another One Bites the Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I may be in the market for a beta. If you're interested, drop me a comment!

Gravel dug into her hands as Natalie met the hard ground for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. Examining her hands, she hissed in pain as she dug a piece of rock out of the plump meat at the base of her thumb. She tucked her knees under her and rubbed her hands against one another, knocking loose the debris. Dust and sweat pattered against her legs.

Krem’s laughter came from behind her. A sharp stab of annoyance straightened her spine. “Better! But still not good enough. You just got gutted by a bandit.”

“No shit it’s not good enough.” She snapped. “That’s why i’m on my butt on the ground.” Shakily, she rose to her feet. Her backside ached fiercely, and her muscled were protesting.

“Oh, someone’s getting cranky.” The mercenary captain smirked at her, his eyebrow raised.

Natalie sighed. “Maybe a little.” Shaking her head at herself, she spread her feet wide in the stance that Krem had made her practice over and over. “Let’s try it again.”

Krem shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Natalie breathed in deeply, trying to calm her mind as Krem circled her. His steps were confident but lazy, seemingly unconcerned. She braced herself, but nothing happened. Brow crinkled in confusion, she turned her head to see what was happening. _Where’s Krem?_ The training yard behind her was empty. _Huh?_

Arms wrapped around her middle, hard muscle like a vise.They pinned her arms to her sides. She gasped. A bud of panic bloomed in her mind, hazing the edges of her vision. For just a moment, she let it take over. But only a moment. Remembering what Krem had taught her, she dropped into a crouch, the body behind her forced into an awkward bent position. Natalie slid her feet wide and angled her hips. A clear path the the groin of her attacker opened up, and she lashed out with her hand. Slamming upward, a loud whuff of air blew past the side of her head and the grip loosened. The grip pinning her arms to her sides loosened just enough. With a lunge forward, she threw an elbow back into the person’s gut.

The arms fell away from her and Natalie slipped away, lightning crackling at her fingertips. With a snarl, she whirled to face the person only to find Krem on his knees behind her. A grimace twisted his normally easy face. Her mind went black. What just happened? She registered first that there had been no threat. Only Krem, training with her like she had asked.

Joy flooded into her chest and she thrust her hands in the air in triumph. “I did it! Holy shit, I did it!” A laugh bubbled up her throat, escaping her mouth in a rush.

A pained groan broke through her celebration. Krem. Still on the ground. “Oh my god, Krem! Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” She dropped to her knees beside him. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Celebrating after I laid him out. I’m such an asshole.

Krem waved his hand at her, shrugging away her hands. “Good job.” His voice was strained, the words breathy.

“Let me help you up.” Natalie hooked her arm under his armpit and pulled.

A slow clap broke through from the side of the training yard, along with laughter. She turned to see Hale there, with Iron Bull. His handsome face was pale and deep circles ringed his eyes, but he was grinning.

“Hale! You’re back!”

Krem pushed her away with a low chuckle. “I’m fine. It will take more than that.”

With a last look at her beleaguered sparring partner, she dashed across the training yard and threw herself at the elven man. He laughed as his arms encircled her, yanking her feet up off the ground. With a final long squeeze that made her ribs ache, he set her back down.

Krem shuffled over behind her, straightening up with a grumble. Iron Bull eyes him, a smirk twisting his mouth.

“Krem! You just earned yourself another training session today.”

“Aw, Chief. What’d I do to deserve that?”

“Anyone who lets themself get knocked down by someone as green as her obviously needs it. C’mon.” Bull clapped his massive hand down on his second’s shoulder before tipping his head to Hale. “Nice seeing you, Boss.”

The huge Qunari and his human companion wandered off. Sounds of their good-natured arguing drifting back to where Natalie and Hale stood.

With a chuckle, she turned to Hale. “When did you get back? That was the longest two weeks I’ve ever seen!” Natalie exclaimed.

“About an hour ago.” Hale scratched the side of his head. “And did I say two? I guess I actually meant three… or four. How long has it been?”

“‘I actually meant three’ he says.” Natalie rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. “What the hell happened?”

“Now that is a long story.” His face fell from the grin he had been wearing to a more serious expression. “Let’s get some lunch and I’ll fill you in.”

The Herald’s Rest was quiet as they entered, the denizens of Skyhold not yet breaking from their duties to find themselves lunch. Hale deposited her at a table in the corner and disappeared to the kitchen to track down some food. Natalie stretched her aching lower back as she waited. What had Hale meant by a long story? She wondered what was going on. This… Cory… What was his name again? She could never remember, other than it was a weird. The big, ugly bad dude. Natalie was curious what Hale had found out.

He returned bearing two mugs and a tray with two meat pies and set them down before her. She fell on the pie, ravenous after the early training session. The thick gravy and flaky crust filled her mouth and promptly burned her tongue.

Hale laughed as she fanned her mouth. “Hot?”

Natalie nodded, trying to suck in air to cool her burning mouth. “It’s so good though.” She managed to swallow that first burning mouthful and took a long drink.

“So, what has been going on here? A little birdie told me that you and our resident apostate are no longer completely avoiding each other.” Hale’s green eyes sparkled over the rim of his mug.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you all are like a knitting circle. You’re back for an hour and already know all kinds of gossip. Is that what you guys really do in that War Room? How does anyone even know about that?”

“That didn’t sound like a denial. And I’ll never reveal my source.”

“He apologized. I accepted. That was like 2 days ago. I haven’t talked to him since. That’s literally the whole story.”

Hale made a humming noise deep in his throat. “I really doubt that.”

Natalie fixed him with a pointed stare. “So, what happened in Crestwood?” She swiftly changed the topic.

Hale’s smile faded. “Crestwood was bad. Really bad. Turns out their Mayor flooded the entire town during the last Blight and killed a bunch of people. We had to drain their lake to close a massive rift that had opened beneath it and there were still bodies laying around in the old town.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, sighing heavily. “Also, it seems Corypheus might have convinced all the Grey Wardens that they are dying so that they will turn on everyone and help him.”

 _Corypheus. That’s right_. “Wait, so the Mayor murdered the town by flooding it? That’s awful.” Natalie couldn’t even imagine what would bring a person to do something like that.

“Not the entire town, but enough. He ran off before we could take him into custody. We’re looking for him. That’s what caused the delay.”

“And how did Corypheus convince the Grey Wardens that they are dying?” She asked, between bites of meat pie.

“From what I understand, after a certain amount of time the Grey Wardens experience something called a Calling. It happens when the darkspawn blood they injest becomes too much, and they go off… well, to die, basically. I can't pretend that I know all the details or understand it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. They drink Darkspawn blood to become Grey Wardens?” Natalie had read about the Blights in an effort to put some pieces together after she had arrived, but she must have missed that section.

“Apparently. Disgusting, yeah?” Hale’s face scrunched in disgust. “Stroud, the contact that Varric’s friend Hawke took us to talk to, thinks that’s Corypheus is tricking them all into thinking they are hearing the Calling.”

“Oh wow. That’s terrible. That must be terrifying.”

“So we’re off on another long journey. The Western Approach this time.”

“When are you leaving?”

“About a week or so.” He replied. “We needed to come resupply and gather some information. Dispatch the scouts. That kind of thing.”

“Man, that’s quick.”

Hale shrugged. “I prefer to be traveling than to be stuck around here with my nose up some Orlesian noble’s arsehole.”

Natalie laughed, cringing. She could have done without the visual that comment left in her mind. “I guess.”

“So that brings me to my next point.” He stared at her, his body tense and eyes narrowed.

Natalie returned his gaze for a few long moments but he said nothing. The anticipation building in the air. “What?” She asked, taking a drink of her ale.

“I want you to come with us.”

The ale suddenly seemed to grow rocks, choking on the way down. Her throat burned with the heavy liquid as she coughed. Of all the things she expected him to say, that would have been one of the last. What the hell was he thinking? “You can’t be serious.” She finally choked out.

“Hear me out. I promise it’s not as crazy as it sounds!”

“I cannot imagine any way for that to sound less crazy!” Her voice rose an octave. What did he mean ‘come with them?

Hale shushed her. “Let me explain what I mean.”

“You better explain quick, Hale, because I’m about to get up and walk out.” He was insane. Insane!

“We’re planning to establish a forward operating base in the Western Approach. Knight Captain Rylen and a contingent of his soldiers are coming with us, along with one of the stablehands and an apprentice from the forge. I want you to come to help establish a clinic.”

Natalie’s jaw dropped. “Surely there is someone more qualified than I am.”

“Mother Giselle suggested you. There aren’t very many of you that are terribly proficient at healing magic, plus you have your background in emergency medicine and triage. It makes sense.”

“Hale, I can barely heal without needing to sleep for eight hours afterward.”

“It wouldn’t be just you. They are planning to send a couple of the Chantry sisters along behind us to help. You just need to help handle the initial arrangements.”

“Hale, I’m not fit for some huge trek across country to wherever the Western Approach is! I’m not a soldier, or even a very good mage.” Natalie felt a helpless anxiety well up in her gut.

“Natalie, Mother Giselle and Fiona are needed here. And of the others who can perform healing magic… most of them aren’t soldiers either. They all either came from the Chantry or the Circles.”

She stared at him. She had to find some way to talk him out of this. “I’m going to get myself killed. What if we run into a Rift or something on the way there?”

“You’ll have your own barriers, plus my group and the squad of soldiers to defend you. Rylen is a supremely competent warrior and commander. He wouldn’t be Cullen’s second of he wasn’t.” Hale leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms.

Natalie searched her brain, turning over excuses and examining them one by one. None of them seemed likely to work. She had never seen Hale this set on something before. “There’s no way for me to say no to this, is there?”

Hale leaned forward and put his hand over hers on the table. “Please say yes. I don’t want to have to order you to go. Plus, it’ll be fun.”

“You have a strange definition of fun.”

“Nat, I’d rather travel with you than any of the Redcliffe mages or the people from the Chantry. You’ll be safe. I promise I won’t let you get killed.” Hale’s eyes were wide, hopeful. He looked startlingly like a puppy.

Natalie sighed, the fight leaving her. “Fine.”

His hands smacked down on the table between them. “Wonderful!” The chair skidded across the floor as he stood. “I need to get back to the War Room. Get with Mother Giselle and Sir Morris and find out what supplies we will need to take with us.”

Hale swept out of the tavern, leaving Natalie staring at his retreating back and the ale left in her mug. What the hell had just happened? Was she really going to do this? The thought of leaving Skyhold to venture across the country was daunting, terrifying. She felt the knot of fear in her stomach. You can do it.

With sigh, she drained the rest of her mug and ventured off to find Mother Giselle.

_It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Happy Labor Day weekend! I was planning to go a little further but I wanted to get something out before the holiday! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and enjoying! Keep the comments coming. I love knowing what you guys are thinking. 
> 
> I think I'm going to try to stick to a Tuesday and Friday update schedule, but I cant make guarantees. I have a full time job and a family so things happen.


	16. Whoopsie-Daisy

Dried leaves crinkled as Natalie shifted the bundles around in the open crate. The fresh, aromatic scent of medicinal herbs filled her nose. Fragrant bushels of elfroot, spindleweed, crystal grace, blood lotus, wrapped in linen and tied neatly. The crates beside this one held a treasure trove. Rolls of bandages. Bottles of oils and unguents. Spools of thick cotton string. Bundles of needles of all shapes and sizes. Sets of sparkling metal instruments. The amount of supplies that Mother Giselle and Ser Morris had deemed necessary to bring was dizzying. Two wagons stood waiting to accompany them to the Western Approach.

The reality that she was embarking on this journey still felt surreal, much like everything else had the last few months. She had greeted the dawn fully dressed and in the midst of taking a final inventory. A wave of butterflies multiplied in her stomach. Natalie had long been a nervous cleaner. In college, the night before a final would often find her scrubbing her bathroom tiles, or the inside of the oven. Skyhold held no such opportunity, so the frantic energy was spent checking and double-checking. Unpacking and repacking. With a deep breath, she fitted the lid onto the crate and stepped away. Needed to be done before she drove herself up the wall with it.

As the sun had rose in the sky, so had the activity in the courtyard. Soldiers trickled in from the barracks, the sound of clanking armor and chatter with them. Horses were tied in rows, waiting for the saddlebags that would weigh down their backs. One of them would be hers, a thought that sent a tremor of dread through her. There weren’t many horses in urban Chicago, and she had never been on one for more than a pony ride at the pumpkin patch when she was a child. The realization that she was going to be required to spend the better part of two weeks on the back of one had been daunting.

“Are those crates ready to be loaded?” A deep voice startled her from her worried musing. The pleasant brogue filtered across her awareness like warm honey.

Natalie turned to look up at the man who addressed her, somewhat surprised to see an unfamiliar face. He was tall and broad, with dark, wavy hair that fell somewhat long over his pale blue eyes. His face was a rugged one, with lines tattooed down his chin and along one side of his nose in blue. The effect was somewhat startling, but it suited his handsome face. His Inquisition crest gleamed on his armored breastplate, a matching helm tucked casually under his arm.

“The last one still needs its lid nailed down, but yes. They can be loaded.”

“I take it you must be the healer?” He raised one dark eyebrow.

“I guess you could say that. I’m Natalie.” She held out her hand to him, mostly out of habit.

He stared at her and her outstretched hand, assessing. The confusion on his face sent heat across her cheeks as she realized her error. _Right. Don’t think they do handshakes here._ She quickly tucked her hands behind her back.

“Knight-Captain Rylen. We are glad to have you along. It will be nice to have a real healer on a march for once.”

His name sounded familiar. She had to run it over in her mind a few times before the bells started ringing. Hale had mentioned him last week, when he had roped her into this ridiculous escapade. _Cullen’s second in command._

“Pleased to meet you, Knight-Captain. Can’t say I’ve done much _marching_ before, but I will do my best.”

“I’m sure you will, Natalie.” He winked at her, a grin spreading across his face. “Be ready to go as soon as the Inquisitor and his party arrive.”

Rylen turned and strode confidently across the bailey before Natalie could respond. Natalie watched him go, appreciating the view. _Not bad._

Inquisitor _._ That title was going to take some getting used to. Just yesterday, Cassandra had pulled Hale to the landing of the main staircase and presented him with a comically large sword and a new position in front of the entirety of the Inquisition. The crowd had cheered as he had held it aloft, accepting the responsibility of officially leading them. In the end, it was more of a formality than anything. Hale had been instrumental in every decision that had been made thus far, and had been their de facto leader for months.

Natalie turned to grab her saddlebags and staff from the ground beside the crates. The majority of her meager belongings had gone into them, weighing them down. Extra clothing, a cloak, a spare pair of boots, a few books on herbalism and healing magic, plus a journal full of the notes she had been keeping over the past couple of months. No one had seen fit to give her an idea of how long she was going to be away from Skyhold, but she assumed the answer to that was ‘long enough’.

A hand slapped her on the back. “Ready to go?”

She glanced up at Hale. “Ready as I’m going to be, I think.”

“I think we’ve got a nice, calm mare for you over here. Come meet your new, four-legged best friend.”

* * *

 _Best friend, my ass. My stiff, aching ass._ Her knuckles were white where they clenched around the horn of the saddle. Every clop and sway of the beast beneath her sent a fresh burst of burning pain through her legs and back.

The day had started out well enough. They had descended into the valley from Skyhold in a steady column. Half of the squad of Inquisition soldiers taking up the front of the group, and half in the rear with the wagons. Natalie rode abreast with Hale. Solas, Dorian, and Bull surrounding them. Daisy, the dappled gray mare who had stood patiently as she tried and failed to mount her several times, was docile and had an even gait. Despite her apparent good nature, Natalie eyed Daisy as she would a ticking time bomb. Her irrational mind convinced that the horse was going to step on her, or throw her, or otherwise leave her irreparably maimed.

Knight-Captain Rylen had set a brisk pace through the mountains. The unfamiliar feel of hundreds of pounds of animal below her certainly took some getting used to. Before long, Natalie had found herself tensing with each bouncing trot of her mount. Her teeth rattled in her pounding head as they wound down the rocky slope.

_Dear god, why did I let them talk me into this?_

She couldn’t even find it in herself to appreciate the majesty of the scenery as it passed them by. The Frostback Mountains rose tall and proud on either side of their pass. Rolling waves of pine trees covered the sheltered valleys between them. The weather had warmed since their arrival at Skyhold, Winter giving way to the first stirrings of Spring. The clean, damp smell of the Earth just as it begins to thaw permeated everything. None of it made as much of an impression as the stiffness locked in every muscle and joint of her body.

Part of her was aware of the conversations happening around her, but her concentration was engaged in the act of simply staying on this godforsaken beast. She spent the day answering in grunts and one word sentences.

“You can relax, you know.” Dorian’s cultured voice niggled along her distracted mind.

“I’m afraid I’m going to fall off if I do.” Natalie replied through gritted teeth.

“You’re not going to be able to bend your legs to get off, if you don’t.”

His words had proved prophetic. As the Knight-Captain called for a halt for the evening and the party gathered together to make camp, Natalie sat frozen on top of the infernal beast. She willed her legs to move, but her body seemed to be content to stay perched on Daisy’s back despite her best efforts. Her eyes stayed frozen to the place between the horses ears in acceptance. _This is my life now._

“Do you need some help?”

Solas stood at her knee, his hand patting Daisy’s neck absently. Natalie looked down at him, a soft whine escaping her throat. She didn’t necessarily want to accept help doing something so simple, and she resented that it looked like that was going to have to be the case.

“Please get me off of this thing.”

With a soft chuckle, Solas reached her arms up to her. “Slide down sideways, if you can. I will make sure you do not fall.”

Gingerly, she stretched her arms out and rested her hands on his shoulders. Leaning sideways, she felt her body begging to slide off the saddle. He slid a hand along her back to steady her shoulders as she fell, the other resting against her hip. As her opposite leg finally came over the top of the saddle and she freed herself, she fell into him and let her arms twine around his neck in a sudden moment of panic. Solas caught her in a smooth motion, letting her feet settle to the forest floor.

She became very aware of her body pressed into his, the warm hand resting on her hip, the heat of him bleeding into her. Their eyes met for several long moments, mossy green and crystalline blue intertwined. She could feel the breath catch in her throat.

He cleared his throat softly. “Can you stand?”

Natalie mentally shook herself. “I think so.” She croaked.

She pulled away, her hands sliding away from him as she put her weight on her sore legs. Thankfully, they held her without sending her into a heap on the ground and she limped a few steps back.

“Ah, thank you.”

“What Dorian said earlier is true, you know. If you relax, your body will move with the horse instead of fighting it and you will not find yourself in so much pain after.”

“I’ll try to remember that tomorrow.” She laughed softly, mostly at herself. “I didn’t expect to be so sore at the end of the day. I was so focused on just staying on.”

“Make sure you massage your legs tonight. It will help with the soreness so you will not finding riding quite so painful tomorrow.” He began to turn, as if to walk away.

“What, not going to volunteer to help me with that?” Natalie’s jaw nearly dropped at her own words. Where had that come from?

He raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “If that is truly your wish, I would be happy to offer my assistance.”

Natalie laughed, her cheeks flaming. Talk about calling her bluff. “No! That’s okay. I can handle it myself. I was just kidding.”

He gave her a long look before walking away. That night, her mind was full of thoughts of his long fingers as she rubbed her sore muscles.

The following day dawned with an ache deep in her bones and an overwhelming sense of dread at the thought of mounting that creature of torture again. Daisy stood calmly as she, once again, took a couple tries to mount. Her legs and butt hurt after the previous day, but she felt infinitesimally more confident in her horseback riding skills after a full day spent in the saddle. She felt her body swaying in motion with Daisy’s gait, rather than fighting it. It wasn’t comfortable and she still felt wholly terrified that she was going to find herself on her back on the ground, but it was better.

_Huh. Maybe I could get used to this._

The tall mountains began to give way to rolling foothills as the day wore on. The trees growing slightly sparser, the air feeling heavier, and the ground thawing and turning muddy. The glimpses of Spring in the mountains had given way to a full blown bloom.

The men riding with her chattered back and forth intermittently as she listened, too distracted by the fire to really participate in a meaningful way. It was interesting seeing them all like this, showing a different side of themselves than she usually saw. Except Bull... Bull was just Bull. Hale seemed to have a harder edge than normal, donning an air of command like a favorite cloak. He walked with a more mature confidence than his usual swagger. Dorian came across almost nerdy, enthusiastically trying to rope Solas into conversations about magic and the Fade. Despite the knowledge and passion she knew he held for both subjects, he did not seem willing to engage the other mage.

“Back in my homeland, we keep spirits as servants.” Dorian stated, trying to draw the elven man in.

“So I’ve been told.” Solas’ voice was cold, clipped. Natalie didn’t think he had heard him sound quite like that before.

“The things they can be made to be are quite marvelous, you should see them.”

“The Tevinter Imperium is not the safest place for an elf.” His tone made it clear that the conversation was over.

Dorian paused, his face closing down. “Ah yes. Point taken.” He replied, softly.

Natalie’s eyebrows crinkled together. Why would elves not be safe in Dorian’s homeland? She edged Daisy sideways, closer to Hale’s mount and leaned over.

“Why would elves not be safe in Tevinter?” She whispered.

Hale looked over at her, his face hard. “Because the Imperium doesn’t consider us to be people. They keep the elves as slaves.”

A sick pit formed in her stomach. Slavery. Her home world was not perfect, and she knew that there were still places on Earth where slavery was present. But from her privileged position as an American citizen, she had the luxury of pretending that such things were relics of a long-ago age. Being confronted with a current reality was intensely uncomfortable.

“That’s...” She couldn’t seem to find an adjective that accurately described it. “... _terrible_.” She finished, lamely.

Hale nodded, a vein ticking in his jaw. “Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a filler chapter, but I promise there is excitement coming in the next one!
> 
> Thank you to all of you who are reading and enjoying! Keep leaving comments and letting me know what you think. Feedback is great!


	17. Punch Drunk

A gray haze of desperation hung over the town of Sahrnia as their horses filed through, their party seeking shelter for the night. It was obvious that war had torn through Emprise du Lion and had left behind deep wounds, ones that were festering in want of care rather than healing. Whole buildings lay torn open and strewn about like a child’s playthings. Others stood, but barely. A ragged mass of bodies huddled in doorways, and along the roads. Shadowed eyes peered from sunken faces. They watched the procession with more fatigue than actual interest, the latest in a string of occupying forces to grace their desolate town. One overlord was as good as the next at this point.

Natalie’s heart clenched. She recognized the look in their eyes. The hollowness. She had seen it often in the faces of those who found themselves in the ER back home in Chicago. Battered wives, desperately seeking acceptance rather than judgement. Lost souls suffering for want of their next fix, but pleading to be free of it for good. Children left too long on their own, with no guardian angel to look to for guidance when things got hard. These were people without hope. 

The call of a thin, mewling cry pulled at her. Soft and quiet. Not yet gaining the piercing wail of an older child. A newborn in its first days of life, if she guessed correctly. The struggling hack of a deep, wet cough, followed by a gasp for breath. Help and care and attention. That’s what these people needed. 

She turned to Hale, who rode quietly beside her. “Hale, we’re stopping for the night, right?”

His green eyes studied her before he nodded. “Yes, I have to speak with the Mayor.”

“These people need help. I am going to use some of the supplies we have with us.” It was not framed as a question, because it wasn’t. She felt that familiar burn in her chest, the one that had kept her getting out of bed every morning after another long double shift. 

Hale nodded again, curtly. “Do what you need to.”

Natalie dug her knees into Daisy’s side, spurring her forward and holding on for dear life when the horse leapt into a trot beneath her. The four days she had spent in the saddle was not nearly enough to render her a fully confident horsewoman. Passing the front column of soldiers, she reigned in her horse beside Knight-Captain Rylen. The man stared at her as if she had two heads, but quickly recovered his composure.

“Miss Natalie. How can I help you?” His lilting voice held a hint of amusement.

“I need you to stop the wagons, and let me borrow a couple of your men to move and open the crates for me.” If the moment hadn’t been one of such high emotion for her, she would have laughed at the incredulous look she received. “Please?” She added, giving him a small smile. 

He shook his head, smiling. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

Rylen turned out to be spectacularly efficient. Within the space of ten or fifteen minutes, he had organized a troupe of his soldiers and they had pulled the wagons into a sheltered alleyway and pried the lids from the crates within. Natalie arranged a set of simple tools and skins of clean water, using a few of them as a table, before she set out to find the source of the weak cry she had heard earlier. 

The tiny wail pierced her heart again as she headed back along the route they had taken into town. The soldiers had cleared from the road, obviously moving on to where their accommodations would be while she was setting things up. Crying came from an open door along her left. She followed the noise and knocked gently on the doorway, peering inside. A thin young woman with a mop of blonde curls, no more than eighteen, paced the floor with a bundle of brown cloth carried close to her chest. The source of the heart-wrenching cry. She bounced the bundle in her arms, shushing it softly. But the thin cry continued. Her head snapped up in surprise as she heard the knock, her eyes wide and tearful. Desperate. 

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I heard the crying. I’m a healer. I was hoping I might be able to help.” Natalie stood in the doorway, not wanting to encroach upon the girl’s personal space without consent.

The tears in her eyes bubbled over, sliding down her cheeks in a salty torrent. “He won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do.”

Taking the statement as permission, she stepped inside the tiny living space and approached, reaching her arms out. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

The girl hesitated before laying the baby in Natalie’s arms. Gently, she brushed the blanket away from his red, scrunched up face. Immediately, she knew what the issue was. The babe’s listless movement and yellowed, papery skin were a dead giveaway.

She looked up at the worried brown eyes that watched her, dark circles smudging beneath them. “Are you having trouble feeding him?”

The girl sighed, deep and weary. “I don’t think I’m doing it right.” Her pale cheeks reddened. “He won’t stay on for very long.”

Natalie smiled gently. “I promise, this is very common. You’re not doing anything wrong. What is your name?”

“Julia.” She said softly, her eyes welling up again.

“Well, Julia, come and sit, and I will show you some tricks.”

Natalie thanked her lucky stars for her rotation on the maternity floor before she had settled in the ER as she coached Julia through some new breastfeeding techniques she could try, and some tricks for using her hands to stimulate her milk production. She left the girl in better spirits, calmly nursing her son, and with orders to bunker down and feed him as often as possible and to keep her water intake up. 

As she left Julia’s house and closed the door softly behind her, she startled to see the tall figure leaning across the opposite building. His quiet presence managing to be both unassuming and commanding at the same time.

Solas gave her a small smile, teeth still hidden behind his slightly quirked lips. “I did not want to intrude, so I thought it best for me to wait outside for you.” His eyes roved her face for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You are very good with people.”

Natalie cocked her head to the side. “It kind of comes with the job description. We call it ‘bedside manner’ where I’m from.”

“Indeed. I came to offer my assistance. The Templar Captain came to inform us all that you had commandeered his men to set up an impromptu clinic in the street.”

She shrugged. “That would be accurate.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him along behind her. The warm skin of his palm in hers sending a buzz of electricity up her arm. “Come on then, if you’re planning to help. I heard a concerning cough on the way in that I would like to take a look at.”

The cough belonged to an elderly man with a shock of white hair standing out stark against nut brown skin. He seemed a little resistant at first, in the stubborn and stoic way that some men tended to be when tasked with going to the doctor. Eventually, she convinced him to come with her to where she had set up and let her look. The lack of a stethoscope proved to be an obstacle as she tried to listen to his lungs, but a hand and an ear on his chest got her by. There was definitely something going on, but she couldn’t tell what with these conditions. A quick palm on his forehead and cheek told her there was no fever.  _ Bronchitis? Probably not pneumonia, at least not yet.  _ She felt a moment of mild frustration as she mourned the loss of modern medical capabilities.

Intense hacking coughs cut off her train of thought. “Solas, can you get him some water while I put something together?”

The elven man obliged as she ground spindleweed and embrium into a paste in a mortar and pestle, with some oil as a binder. She sent the old man on his way with a small jar of the herbal paste and instructions to apply it to his chest whenever he felt he needed to. And to get in bed and not get out for a while, something she assumed was easier said than done. He patted her shoulder gratefully as he shuffled off. 

By the time her coughing patient left, a few other curious faces had wandered her way. Before long, she had a line of people with a dizzying variety of ailments. Mysterious rashes and boils. An infected tooth that she regretfully couldn’t do much about except provide some elfroot for pain and prophet’s laurel for purification. One woman asked, red-faced, for something to keep her from falling pregnant for the second time that year. A young man with a weeping gash on his arm that she cleaned as best she could before sealing with magic. It seemed that the town had been without a healer since their previous one had been killed during an attack on the settlement. They had been making due on their own for months. She promised them all that the Inquisition would see about sending them a replacement.

To her surprise, she found herself blending the practical and magical aspects of her healing skills far more than she ever had before. Using her mana reserves to dull pain and seal wounds, while she dispensed herbs and instructions to combat the underlying issues. The practice of combining one with the other created a whole that she had not considered, but she found to be exceedingly successful. 

Solas worked beside her, fetching her instruments and ingredients, ushering people in to her, and lending an odd spell here and there when her own skills failed her. It was odd to find herself in the position of doctor, with a mage of his power acting as her nurse without complaint. It was the most interaction she had seen him have with the general public in the months she had known him. He normally held himself apart, aloof, almost cold at times. She felt a slight shock that he was so willing to lower himself to play the assistant.

She found herself watching him as the day wore on, his body moving fluidly around in the edges of her vision. He never smiled at their patients, and only spoke when necessary, but his manner was calm and kind. Natalie found herself very aware of where he stood, and how close to her he was, the heat of him existing just out of reach. Furtive glances at his trim figure left her feeling restless and out of sorts. It was the most time she had spent solely in his presence since their heated fight behind the tents after their flight from Haven, since the desperate kiss they had shared in her joy to find him still living and the second hungrier one in the Fade. She was surprised to find how comfortable it felt to work alongside him, despite the tentatively resolved issues between them. Maybe the days of riding near each other had dulled some of the lingering edges.

They had entered Sahrnia in early afternoon and she felt herself growing weary as the light began to fail and the crowd thinned. Her last patient was a young boy with oozing sores on his feet from ill-fitting shoes. Sweat beaded her brow and she wiped it away impatiently with the back of her sleeve as she concentrated on cleaning the grit from the open wounds. A hand fell on her shoulder, momentarily startling her before the familiar smell of evergreen and spices invaded her senses. Warmth rushed into her, pooling beneath the pressure on her shoulder before curling in winding tendrils through her blood. She felt a flood of energy crackle across her nerve endings, invigorating her before the hand withdrew.

_ What is  _ that _? It’s better than a morning Starbucks. _

With renewed focus, she put aside her bloody rags and sent glowing healing energy into the boys feet. The wounds closed up neatly in a moment, and she sent him on his way with his mother. The street was much emptier after their departure, the citizenry having returned home to find their dinners. Natalie watched the boy walk away, hand in hand with the woman beside him. She felt absurdly pleased at her days work. More so than she had in a long time. Almost giddy. Punch drunk with the heady combination of pride and success and the strange buzzing energy that had passed from him into her.

She began to turn back to her makeshift infirmary. “We can pack up the—“ 

She was cut off when Solas seized her wrist. Not roughly, but not gently either. With a nod to the two Inquisition soldiers who had stood guard over the wagons all day, he pulled her along, leading her out of earshot. Away, past the outer ring of building to the ruined walls behind them. Away from prying eyes. She nearly admonished him for it, but remembered doing almost the same thing to him earlier when she had pulled him along to follow her. 

As they entered the small clearing of space, he released her arm and took a few steps away, his back to her. She could see the heavy rise and fall of his breath in his shoulders. Something was obviously on his mind, but what? 

Natalie found herself holding her breath. Waiting. “What—?”

WIth a soft curse, Solas spun around to her and grabbed her face. Palms cupped her jaw. His pale blue eyes bored into her, pinning her with their heat. “You are…  _ incredible.” _

And he kissed her. 

His mouth claimed hers, bearing away any objections on wings of unspoken emotion joyously freed from weeks of careful imprisonment. Fingers blazed a trail across her scalp as his hands tangled in her hair. Natalie felt her body melt, give in. She let it happen. Let him happen. Her hands reached out, seeking something solid to anchor her lest she take flight and never return. She found him. The feel of his softly woven tunic over the lean muscle of his body. Solid and real.

With a groan, he slanted his lips across hers, teasing them open with the tip of his tongue. The slide of him against her spending spirals of heat to pool deep in her belly. The tantalizing taste of spices sweetened her tongue, his dark forest smell overwhelming her sense. A deep shudder rumbled through her, shaking her from her foundation and sending it crashing down. Sending her crashing down with it.

As quickly as it came, it was over. Lips parted, but hands remained. Puffs of hot breath fanned across exposed skin. Natalie stood with her eyes closed, reveling in the torturous pressure of his body against hers. A flutter of kisses fell lightly over her face, dancing across her eyelids and nose.

“That was…” Natalie felt herself at a loss for words.

A rumble of laughter vibrated from his chest into hers. “Yes, it was.”

“We should go back.” She whispered, feeling herself fold to snuggle into his chest. Face pressed into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Solas pressed his cheek to her hair, enveloping her in a final embrace. “You are likely correct. We will be missed.”

So they went back, the moment still laying heavy between them. They packed away the supplies she had pulled from their places inside the crates earlier in the day, bodies brushing against each other. Sharing ardent touches and whispered words as they worked. Fingers meeting more than was necessary, or perhaps wise. She let herself be carried away. Tomorrow, she would examine what this meant. What it changed. Tonight, she would let this be whatever it was. Tonight, she would let herself enjoy these moments. Things would be clearer in the light of day.

So she did. She did with a silly grin she couldn’t seem to wipe from her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! As always, thank you so much to all of you who are reading and enjoying! The response has really kept me motivated to continue. <3


	18. Elven Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Made my upload date by the skin of my teeth, with an hour to spare.
> 
> Work is nuts, y'all! And these guys just would not. stop. talking.

“What’s wrong with your face today?”

Hale’s voice broke Natalie out of her own head. Daisy’s gently swaying gait had lulled her into a state somewhere between sleep and consciousness. The use of so much magic yesterday had left her a little more tired than usual, and she had drifted deep into replaying the kiss she and Solas had shared. His hands. The warmth of him against her. She had dreamed of it last night and awoken tense and restless this morning.

Natalie looked over at him, his green eyes sparkling underneath a raised eyebrow. “My face? Do I have something on it?” What was he on about?

Natalie swiped her hand over her face, feeling for debris she hadn’t noticed. The amount of dirt that ended up clinging to her skin and hair after a day on the road never ceased to amaze her. There was no telling what was stuck to her after their early departure from Sahrnia this morning.

“Yes, you have this dopey look on your face today.” He cocked his head.

Natalie rolled her eyes and dropped her hand. “Thanks.” She was grateful that it was just Hale being a jerk instead of a giant pimple on her forehead. _That would be just my luck._

“You usually look so intense, like you’re bracing yourself for some kind of disaster to happen. You look, I don’t know… soft? Like Keeper Deshanna’s teenage daughter always did when one of the hunters would smile at her.” Hale chuckled.

“Oh, please. I’m pretty far from being a teenage girl. I’m nearly thirty years old.” Was she nearly? Or was she already? God, she couldn’t remember. She made a mental note to figure it out later, when her brains weren’t being rattled around on the back of a horse.

Hale laughed. “Not wearing that look you’re not. What happened yesterday when you were romping around the town? We’re not going to lose you to some handsome Orlesian soldier boy, are we?”

Natalie’s breath left her in a strangled gasp as she felt her cheeks burst into flames. “Oh god no. What the hell are you talking about?” Was she that transparent? _Nat, calm down. You’re a grown ass woman._ She told herself, sternly. She still felt off-balance after the previous night and her interlude with Solas.

Hale’s eyes narrowed to a feline point. “Something happened yesterday. I can tell. Share.”

Natalie huffed, turning her gaze skyward in a silent prayer for mercy. “Hale, you have to stop projecting your scandalous fantasies on other people.”

Dorian laughed from behind them. “Oh please, Inquisitor, do tell.”

Natalie remembered, belatedly, that she and Hale had company. Between her own thoughts and Hale’s humiliating observations, she had completely forgotten that they had a trio riding just behind them. How much of that had they heard? How much had _he_ heard?

“We’re not going to lose _you_ to an Orlesian soldier boy, are we, boss?” Bull needled Hale.

Hale scoffed. “If I were going to run away with someone, it would not be an Orlesian soldier. I far prefer brunettes from Chicago.” He winked at her.

Natalie burst out laughing. “And I find I have a thing for long, pointy ears.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt the urge to smack her palm against her forehead. _Oh dear lord, why did I say that?_ Today had been a lovely, steaming pile of awkward so far. She hadn’t meant it quite the way it had come out. But maybe she also did? She wasn’t sure when she had returned to being fifteen and a bumbling idiot when it came to affairs of the heart, but she kicked herself in the ass and resolved to act her age.

“Oh, _really_.” Hale sounded so very titillated by this information.

Natalie felt her cheeks blaze, but she wasn’t going to let him call her out. “Oh, yes. Pointy ears and face tattoos. Winning combination. I can’t resist.”

Hale grinned. “Is that so?”

“You bet.”

“Well, I’ll have to take you to meet my clan sometimes. You won’t be able to walk straight.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“How dare you make such insinuations about my character.” Natalie held back her laughter as she clutched at her neck and gasped in mock horror. “I would be able to walk. Just maybe not sit down.”

Hale threw his head back and cackled. “That may be enough for them to forgive me for bringing a shem into the camp.”

“I feel strangely like I need a face tattoo now.” Bull’s voice was amused, breaking into their suggestive conversation.

Natalie twisted around on Daisy to look at him. “Nah, you’ve got the horns. The horns definitely get me going too.”

“The horns get everyone going.” He grinned at her.

“Oh yes, I’m sure they do.” Dorian interjected, voice dripping sarcasm.

“Well, as a matter of fact, they’re pretty handy if you use them as a kind of hook to put someone’s legs—“ Bull turned to the mage and began to expound on the many varied uses of horns in sexual situations.

Dorian eyes immediately glazed over and he looked rather ill.

Seizing their distraction, Natalie snuck a glance at Solas, who rode silently beside the Qunari. He had been quiet through the entire outrageous exchange. His pale blue eyes greeted her, as if he had already been looking at her. They held a clear challenge, sparkling with their usual intensity. _“Pointed ears. Very interesting, lethallan.”_ She could almost hear the words in his black velvet voice. She raised an eyebrow at him. “ _Yes, it is.”_

Hale cleared his throat. Natalie jumped, realizing she was being incredibly obvious. She turned back around, her spine straight as an arrow. She could could feel Hale’s eyes on her profile, and Solas’ on her back. _Way too much attention from the elves today…_

“Mmhmm.” Hale’s knowing hum buzzed in her ears.

“What?” She glanced over at him, only to find him staring at her with narrowed eyes.

He shrugged, looking away with a smirk. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Shut up.” She snapped.

His only answer was a chuckle.

Miles plodded past beneath the hooves of their horses. The landscape was still craggy, covered in snow and despair, the trees long since given way to scrubs of tough grass shooting gnarled fingers from the frosty soil. Cracked and broken ruins of some ancient civilization peeked around the turns of the road, and kept watch atop the cliffs above them. Eerie guardians of long forgotten memories. She wondered if Solas knew their history, and knew that she would not be surprised if he did. The man seemed to be a repository for all manner of history and folklore.

Gradually, they began to descend again. The air was thicker, warmer. They reached the bottom of a particularly steep pass out of the highlands, and the landscape opened up into grassy plains. The frost and scrub transitioning into fields of yellowed grass.

Knight-Captain Rylen rode toward them from the front of their company, his horse’s hooves swift on the more even ground. “Inquisitor!” He called, as he reeled in his horse next to Hale.

“Report, Captain.”

“Scouts came back. Heavy activity in the Exalted Plains. Grand Duke Gaspard’s forces are holed up in Fort Revasan, directly in our path. A group calling themselves the ‘Freeman of the Dales’ are harassing his forces all over the plains. There is heavy fighting going on.”

Hale cocked his head. “Are they a threat?”

“I don’t think so, sir. They have other concerns occupying them. There were also reports of… strange happenings.”

Hale’s brow creased. “What kind of strange happenings?”

“Undead, Inquisitor.”

 _Undead?!_ Natalie didn’t know why that shocked her so much. After seeing a giant hole in the sky, you’d think a few zombies would be par for the course. But she felt her stomach clench as icy tendrils worked their way down her spine. She had spent many nights in college drinking PBR and watching crappy horror movies with her roommate, and the image of her throat being torn out by a shambling corpse was easy to imagine.

“They don’t know where they’re coming from, but there are reports that they have taken the ramparts from the Orlesian forces and are causing a lot of problems. Most of the action’s about a days ride ahead.”

Hale sighed. “See if you can pinpoint where they are coming from. We’ll take a look once we get closer and find a safe place to make camp and leave the wagons.”

 _The wagons I will be very bravely hiding under._ Natalie thought.

“There’s a sheltered area between two cliffs that we can use tonight, it should give us a nice wall to put our backs to.”

Hale nodded. “Lead on, Captain.”

Her gaze moved between the two men as Rylen nodded curtly and wheeled his massive stallion around to return to his post at the front of the line.

Natalie turned to Hale. “Why am I not surprised that the freaking dead walk here too?”

He laughed. “You realize Dorian is a Necromancer, right?”

Natalie whipped her head around to look at the dark haired man, jaw wide open. “Seriously?”

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Dorian shrugged.

She felt certain that her catfish impression was spot on at the moment. As she turned to face forward again, her shoulders dropped. For not the first time, she wondered what the hell kind of place she had ended up. _Undead. Sweet baby jesus. This is insane._

Hale turned to the three who rode behind them. “We should get to where we can make camp so we can meet with the scouts and decide what action needs to be taken.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Came Bull’s assent.

“That sounds reasonable.” From Solas.

Dorian merely shrugged. “I guess that is for the best.”

 

* * *

They made camp as the sun fell and twilight drained the vibrant colors from the sky. The warmth of the day ebbed, promising a cold night to come. Soldiers hurried to erect the tents by the last rays of the dying sun. Natalie stood at the edge of the camp, staring at the mountain on the horizon and the massive wolf statue that stood guard atop it. Even from this distance, she could tell that it was colossal. She wondered at what it was, and how the builders had managed to erect something so huge on top of a mountain.

Hale and the others were deep in conversation with Rylen and the scouts. She could hear them hotly debating the plans for the following day. While the individual words escaped her, she could hear the sharp command of Hale’s voice and the answering sternness from Rylen. Occasionally, even Bull’s echoing boom and Solas’s velvet tones underscored by a spine of steel. It was clear the men didn’t quite agree on what was to be done about the situation they found themselves in, but something had to be. Hale had told her as they stopped that it was too dangerous to take the horses and wagons through such contested territory.

A lone scout charged into the camp, making a beeline toward the Inquisitor’s group. The young man was breathing heavily, noticeably exhausted. Natalie imagined he must have run quite a way. He spoke rapidly to the group between deep breaths, pointing vigorously from the direction he had come.

As he spoke, the faces of the men around him changed. Hale’s eyes grew wide, his mouth opening. Dorian blanched, his burnished skin turning gray beneath the melanin. Solas’ jaw clenched shut, his face turning hard as flint. Rylen looked slightly queasy, and Bull’s mouth twisted into a grimace. The scout must have had very bad news.

She felt a twist of anxiety in her belly. For the first time, she wished that she held a position of command. At least then she would be included in these conversations and would know what was going on.

The men exchanged hard stares as the scout finished talking. Hale said a few words to Rylen, who nodded in return. The Knight-Captain turned on his heel and strode away, barking unintelligible orders at his men, as the Inquisitor and his men exchanged rapid, tense words, their heads bending together. Before long, their huddle broke and they all scattered in their separate directions.

Her mind turned over the options in her head. She wanted to know what was going on, and someone was going to tell her. Hale seemed likely to pat her on the head and tell her not to worry. She knew neither Dorian or Bull well enough to judge what their reaction would be, despite their close contact the past week. Solas seemed the best option. He was usually willing to share things, as long as she asked. Plus, they really should talk about a few other things while they were at it…

The tall elf headed toward the edge of the encampment. She assumed that he was hoping for a quiet moment to himself. _Too bad, man. Maybe later._ Natalie trailed after him, her shorter legs pushing hard to cover the extra ground. Her thighs burned a bit at the effort. A remnant of her softer life in Chicago, even after months here living a harder one. Maybe she needed to work in some squats into her daily routine.

Only feet stood between them as they reached the outer rows of tents, he cast a glance over his shoulder. His face softened the tiniest degree as he saw who it was who followed him, his eyes losing a little bit of the deep creases at the edges.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

Solas’ shoulders fell, but his face hardened. “Come.” He held out his hand to her.

Natalie looked at him, puzzled, but slid her palm into his. His hand was warm, the calluses on his palms scraping slightly against her skin. The encampment was left behind, the light of the campfires blazing and the sounds of the soldiers enjoying their supper just out of earshot.

“I apologize. I find that I am in need of a little quiet tonight.”

Natalie cast her eyes around as they climbed a nearby hill, the waking moon rising before them. “Is is safe to be out here? I mean… aren’t there dead things lurking?” She shivered, more from apprehension than the chill in the air.

Solas’ faint chuckle drifted on the night air. “It will be fine. Nothing will bother us this close to the camp.”

“But won’t the noise from the camp attract things?”

He glanced back at her. “I set wards when we arrived. We should be fine for the night.”

Natalie’s lips thinned. She wanted to believe him, but she had her doubts. “Where are we going?”

“I wanted to show you the answer to your question.”

 _Show me? It’s nearly dark._ She began to doubt his sanity a bit, but followed nonetheless.

As they crested the hill, the Exalted Plains lay before her, gilded in gold and silver by the final dying rays of the sun and the first stretching caress of the moon. The massive wolf statue she had been studying earlier crowned the mountain peak, a sentinel watching over the grassland below. She could see a river far in the distance, shrouded in shadow. He released her hand, the sudden chill standing her hair on end.

“What did the scout say?” She asked, looking out over the landscape rather than face him. A slight uncertainty lay between them, neither one knowing where they stood with the other. It was a living, breathing thing.

He hesitated, coming to rest in his neutral pose. Hands clasped behind his back. “It seems that someone has left piles of corpses on the ramparts to attract the dead.”

She felt herself recoil. “That’s vile. Why would someone do that?”

“We do not know yet, but the Inquisitor aims to discover the culprit and the reason. The scout informed us that the pits are warded with magic, to keep anyone from removing the bodies.”

Pits full of bodies. That was a phrase she never thought she would hear in person. “So you will have to do something about it to stop the undead?”

“It seems that way, but it may not stop them completely. The undead are attracted to areas where death and decay are prevalent.”

Natalie felt her eyebrows draw together. “Why would that be here? What happened to this place to attract that kind of attention?”

“The Exalted Plains have a long and bloody history.” He continued. “It was here that the Elven people took their final stand against the human forces, and it has been torn apart by war many times since.”

“Will you tell me what happened to them? The ancient elves, I mean.”

He turned to looked down at her, his demeanor warming slightly. “The Exalted Plains are part of the Dales, lands promised to the Elven people by Andraste for their service to her. Elves journeyed from all over Thedas, leaving their homes to join together to rebuild their ancient civilization and revive their lost culture. Halamshiral was founded, a symbol of peace and unity to the Elven people. After the Second Blight, Orlais declared a holy war on the Dales. They ripped the Dales away, scattering the elven people once again, relegating some to the alienages and banishing others into the wilds to form the Dalish clans, and forbidding them from worshipping their gods.”

She watched his face as he spoke, admiring the spark in his eyes. Solas was someone who felt things deeply, even if he didn’t show it. He always seemed in his element when he was lecturing her on some topic.

“That’s terrible.” Natalie hand began to bridge the gap between them, a sudden urge to reach out to him, to hold him, overwhelming her. Her hand came to rest on his bicep, gently stroking the fabric that covered his arm.

He gave a small, mirthless laugh and stared into the distance. “Indeed. This land is forever shaped by war and strife.” Solas looked down at her then, his face tight and his eyes burning. A warm hand covered hers where it rested on his arm. “It could be so different, if only there had been other choices made.”

“That’s the thing about choices, Solas. You make them and then you face the consequences. You can live your life in regret, or you can move forward and make the choice to do better the next time.” She felt her body lean and stretch toward his warmth. Wanting. Needing to be closer. “I sometimes think about the night I came here. What I could have done to prevent it. If only I had left work earlier, if only I hadn’t stopped on my way home, if only I had had my keys out when I reached my door. Maybe. Just maybe, it might have been different.”

“And would it not have been better? You lost everything. The world you lived in and the people you loved. You were horribly injured.”

“Maybe.” Natalie shrugged. “Maybe it would have been better. But maybe he would have just attacked the next person to come along instead. Better for me, yes. But not generally better. I did lose everything, and it was terrible. I will never be the same person after what happened to me. I’ve spent more time terrified and crying in the past few months than I have the rest of my life combined.”

He stared at her, his expression inscrutable. Natalie slid her hand out from beneath his and raised it to cup his cheek. “But for everything lost, I gained something. I’ve learned so much. I gained friendships. I have _magic._ ” Her face split into a bright smile, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. “You probably don’t even understand how amazing that is for someone like me, but it’s _amazing_.”

He sighed, his eyes closing briefly. “Natalie, I am afraid that this may be another mistake.”

“What? You and me? Is there even a you and me yet? That’s rather presumptuous of you, Solas.”

A huff of breath, not quite a laugh, puffed against her face as he leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. “The kiss was ill-advised.”

“Yeah? Well, just remember that you started it.” She chuckled, pulling away and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “That was also _your_ hand on _my_ ass before it was over.” She added, whispering into his ear.

Solas’ spine snapped up straight, pulling him away from her. The look on his face was about as close to embarrassment as she could imagine him getting, though definitely still a far cry from how beet red she knew she always got.

Laughing, she reached for his hand. “Come on. If we don’t go back, Bull will eat all of dinner before we can get any. And I’m starving.”


	19. Healing Hands

Arm muscles quivered, abdominals bunching into knots as she strained to keep her staff above her head. The point of a sword hovered just above her, gleaming menacingly in the afternoon light. Her knuckles shone white against the dark wood where she clutched it with both hands. She felt a tickle as sweat dripping down her neck, leaving itching trails along her spine and between her breasts. Natalie’s teeth ground together, her entire focus on keeping the point of that sword away from her face. 

Hard blue eyes glared into hers, topped by the slash of deep brown brows. Her opponent growled as he flexed his arms, pushing against her. The sharp point inched toward her, and she felt her resolve form into a hard knot within her. She wasn’t going to let herself lose. Gathering the reserves of her strength, she gritted her teeth together even harder and flexed her muscles upward, pushing her staff up and out. The blade skittered against the wood as it pulled back, but didn’t pull away. Lashing out with her foot, she planted her boot in his stomach and pushed. 

A rush of air left his mouth in a grunt as he stumbled backward, his sword falling away as he doubled over. She let out a small grin of victory, planting the butt of her staff against the ground and leaning against it. She was hot and sticky, but flush with adrenaline. With a snarl, he recovered and charged her. Natalie’s eyes widened, her brain registering the alarm bells just a split second too late. As she turned to run, his arm snatched her around the waist and his big body bore her down to the ground, falling partly on top of her.

All of her breath left her body in a great burst as her spine met the hard packed earth, her teeth knocking together painfully. The large heavy body created a further weight on her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. She lay there stunned for several moments.

“Dammit, Rylen! Get off me!” She pushed at his shoulder as she found her voice once again. “You cheater!”

A deep rumble of laughter greeted her statement as he raised his head and looked at her, in no rush to remove himself. “I’m not the one who started fighting dirty first.” Rylen’s rolling brogue was warm and amused.

“I was just trying to get your sword out of my face. You didn’t need to knock me down.”

“You got cocky. I had to teach you a lesson.” He grinned as he propped himself up on one hand, eyes sparkling merrily. “Plus, it was an excuse to get you on your back.”

“Just a tip, maybe next time choose buying a girl a drink over tackling them.” She laughed and finally succeeded in pushing his arm away. Natalie rolled over, coming up onto her knees to stand. Her body still felt like a freight train had barreled into her. Maybe one had. Rylen certainly had many train-like qualities, mainly that he was large, hard, and loud.

He watched her as he stood, brushing the dust and dried grass from the front of his uniform. “You’re improving though. I probably wouldn’t put money on you, but I think you would last at least five minutes in a fight before you got yourself killed now.”

She answered with a short bark of laughter. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He shrugged. “It was one, actually. I think training with the soldiers has done you some good.”

Hale and the others had left three days ago to solve the problem with the undead in the Exalted Plains and clear a path for them to cross, and Natalie had found that she had very little to actually  _ do _ in the camp. She spent the first morning reading a dry tome on the varieties of herbs native to the Western Approach. It was not an interesting one, that was for sure, even if it was informative. Not to mention that the nagging worry over the four men who had rode out alone that morning was eating away at her. She had found herself bored to tears in under an hour, desperately wishing for something productive to do and watching the soldiers run practice drills in an open field near the camp.

Natalie had not paid much attention them as they traveled, which made her feel a little like a jerk. When had she started disregarding the people around her? The thought left her a little uneasy. Stress had been a daily part of her life for years, and was no excuse to let herself become self-absorbed. She resolved to right that, to pay more attention.

After a more thorough examination, she had to admit that they must have sent the best looking bunch of the lot with them. Because they were not hard to look at. Like, at all. Especially when some of them decided to strip down to just their pants and boots under the hot sun. Peering surreptitiously over the top of her book, she watched the flex of of their sweat-slicked muscles as they sparred.  _ Damn, I’m suddenly a little parched.  _ Rylen had, of course, caught her watching and had forced her up out of the chair and put her staff in her hands. And promptly kicked her ass. And then spent the last 3 days kicking her ass. Apparently, he had nothing better to do with himself.

“Maybe someday I’ll last six minutes. Or…” She let out a fake gasp. “... even  _ seven.” _

Rylen clapped a hand on her shoulder, his grin widening. “I have no doubt you will. When you learn to get out of your own head and trust yourself, you’ll be just fine. Bull and his boys taught you pretty well, so far.”

She bit her lip, letting those words hit home. He wasn’t wrong.

“Come on, let’s get you that drink and then you can get me some of that salve you made to help with this strangely boot shaped bruise I’m going to have on my stomach.” 

Natalie smiled. “Sure. I guess I owe you that much.”

She left Rylen with some of his men as she sought out something to wet her dry tongue. The water was refreshingly cool after the intense workout Rylen had put her through. It ran down her throat as she drank deeply from the tin cup the soldiers kept near the water buckets, tiny rivulets trailing down her neck. Filling her hands, she splashed her face and scrubbed her hands across it. The dirt and grit coating her skin washing into her creases and leaving her feeling even dirtier, somehow. As she made her way to her tent and the stash of healing potions and salves she kept with her things, she couldn’t help but long for a proper bath again.

Rylen had graciously supplied Natalie with one of the larger tents and she had set it up as a makeshift clinic, knowing that they would be stopped for a few days. Her packs were tossed into the corner, laying negligently across a pile of dirty clothes at the end of her cot. A second cot sat across the room, with a small folding table next to it.

Natalie sighed in exhaustion and grabbed the nearest saddlebag, hearing the clink of glass within. She acknowledged that it probably wasn’t the smartest way to store breakable bottles, but the need to have a few of her concoctions close to rub on her battered body at the end of the day trumped common sense at this point. Bottles rattled as she sifted through them.

A cheer from outside interrupted her search. 

“ _ Inquisitor!” _

Her heart leapt into her throat. If there had been word from them in the past days, no one had seen fit to share it with Natalie. The dragging weight of anxiety had been growing with each passing day. Finally spotting the needed salve, she grabbed the green glass jar and darted out of her tent, leaving her things scattered.

_ Oh well. I’ll get that later. _

Loud voices and the whiny of horses came from the training grounds. She spied the tall horns of Iron Bull over the top of the tent next to hers as her feet carried her swiftly there, heart pounding. 

The group was dusty and blood splattered, standing in a semicircle with Rylen. Hale’s long, pale hair was pulled away from his face and streaked with deep red and brown. He looked exhausted, his eyes deep and haunted. His three companions were not much better, all of them dirty and streaked with unmentionable things. They all looked like they were in need of a long bath and a good night's sleep. But they were here, and in one piece. 

She felt a flutter in her chest as she approached and instinctively met the blue eyes of her elven mage.  _ Hers? When did I start thinking like that? _ Her brows creased as she considered where that impulse had come from. He wasn’t… but did she want him to be? 

His eyes followed her, tracking her movements as she came to stand next to Hale. A fuzzy warmth crept up her gut, curling deep within her. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks, her head still dwelling on the thought of him as hers. She looked away, trying to focus on what Hale and Rylen were saying. It was difficult with her concentration ruined by the weight of his attention.

“...new recruit.” Hale’s voice was firm. 

“We can’t handle a new recruit on this march. Especially not some inexperienced one from a random Dalish clan.” Rylen’s face was hard.

Hale narrowed his eyes. “Captain, may I remind you that I am an elf from a random Dalish clan?”

Rylen had the good sense to look chagrined, his head inclining slightly. “As you say, Inquisitor. I do think it best that we have the next scouting patrol collect this Loranil and escort him to Skyhold for training, rather than taking him with us.”

Hale pressed his lips together. “Send a message to the nearest one and have them head this way. They should have less trouble getting through now, and I want him out before his Keeper changes his mind.”

Rylen nodded curtly. “It will be done, Inquisitor.” He turned to leave and nodded to Natalie. “Natalie.”

She smiled and held the jar out to him. “For that boot print. Just bring it back to me when you’re finished.”

Taking the jar, he returned her smile before walking away. 

Hale managed to wait until the former Templar was out of earshot before releasing a long sigh. He cast Natalie a weary glance. 

Natalie’s mouth quirked into half a rueful smile. “How much of that blood is yours?”

His eyes shuttered. “None, thankfully.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Hale’s head jerked, shaking. “No.”

Natalie reached up to pat his cheek. “Okay. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes for a moment.  “I’m going to go scrub the top layer of my skin off.” Hale broke away and strode toward his tent without another word, the soldiers scattering to get out of his way.

As the others began to trickle away, she dared another glance at Solas. His sharply elegant features were slightly drawn, she could see the tension in his shoulders. A shoulder that was stained bright red with blood. _Bright red?_ _Wait a minute…_

“Solas.” She called out. “Are you hurt?”

He glanced back at her with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Do not trouble yourself.”

Reaching out, Natalie put her hand on his arm to stop him from walking away. “Nonsense. Let me see.”

“Really, there is no need. I will see to it myself.” He gave her along-suffering look, clearly somewhat annoyed at her insistence. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re exhausted and I’m not, and I’m also completely capable of healing you. Stop your stubborn, prideful male act and let me help.”

His spine straightened at her words and he regarded her with a closed expression, his eyes dark. Heaving a sigh, he nodded. “If you wish.”

“Come with me. I need to clean that in order to get a good look at it.” 

Collecting a bucket of clean water, she led him back to her tent. Instantly, she was very aware of the dirty clothes on the floor and the bottles she had left around during her hurried search earlier. She could feel the heat on the back of her neck as she moved toward her bed and tried to discreetly kick her gritty, smelly laundry under her cot and out of view. Natalie smiled at him, trying to keep his eyes on her face and not her feet. Solas eyed her intently, his mouth quirking up the tiniest bit. Just enough to tell her that he had definitely seen what she was about.

He had the good grace not to comment on her sloppiness.  _ Thank god. _

“Sit down over there and let me see your shoulder.” She indicated the cot across from the one she usually occupied. 

Solas seated himself, folding his limbs down and settling his staff on the floor beside him. Arms draped over his knees, he leaned toward her with his eyes on her as she moved around him in the small space. Placing clean cloths and the bucket nearby, she stood in front of him. Fingers skimming along the reddened cloth on his shoulder, seeking the torn edges of the woven cloth. A gash, nearly 6 inches long, opened the flesh along the back of his shoulder. Prodding at his tunic, she tried to get a good view of the depth but there was too much material in the way. 

“Take your shirt off please.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“It’s either that, or I completely ruin it by tearing the sleeve off. Your choice.” Natalie put her hands on her hips. 

She turned her back as he stood to oblige her, without a word. Natalie didn’t quite understand why she felt the need to, but watching him remove his clothing in her personal space seemed far too intimate to her. Some semblance of privacy was best, for him and definitely for her. The weight of his gaze on her back fell on her as she listened to him disrobe. The clank of a belt buckle. The shift and scrape of leather against cloth. The whisper of a shirt tossed on a cot. The groan of canvas as he took his seat once again. She felt heat creep into her face.

“You are welcome to continue.” His voice fluttered across her skin. 

Turning, she stopped dead.  _ Holy shit… _

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him shirtless, his gaze fixed firmly on her. Solas had always seemed the slender and scholarly type to her, even in the dreams that she could neither confirm nor deny had taken place. The reality was far beyond what she could have imagined. His upper body was not slim, but lean and muscular. His skin was smooth and pale, dusted with smatterings of pale freckles like the ones on his face.  _ Good lord, the man has abs for days. Who knew. _

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to tear her eyes from his chest and get back to the task at hand. She was a professional. She saw shirtless men all the time. She saw naked people all the time. She could do this. This was nothing.  _ This is nothing. _

The wound was deeper than she would have guessed. Natalie managed to regain some degree of clinical detachment as she examined it. It was nasty, ragged around the edges, and oozing watery blood and clear plasma. Not made by a blade. The skin around it was angry and red, splashed with flecks of dried blood. 

“What on earth happened to you?”

He let out a small grunt. “A walking corpse happened. I was distracted elsewhere and it managed to get its claws into me before I could raise my barriers.”

She shuddered. “That’s horrifying. Who knows what kind of bacteria that thing left behind from its disgusting claws.” 

“I would imagine the answer is a lot.”

Taking up a clean cloth, she wet it down with clean water and a splash of a potion made from prophet’s laurel for antibacterial purposes. She gently washed away the dried blood and grime from his skin. He shuddered under her fingers, his jaw tensing. 

“Do you need something for the pain?” 

Solas shook his head curtly. “No. Please keep going. I would like this to be over as soon as possible.”

Folding her cloth, she washed away the deep brown and red to reveal the pale skin beneath. It only made the angry red of the wound stand out more. The color concerned her.

“This may sting a little.” She told him as she braced a cloth beneath his shoulder and poured some of the prophet’s laurel potion along the gash, flushing the wound with purifying herbs. She felt his muscles stiffen beneath her hands, heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’m sorry. I’m almost done.”

“Why is it that healers always mean burn horribly when they say sting a little?” His statement was delivered through clenched teeth.

Setting aside the bottle, she smiled at him. “Because if we told the truth, people wouldn’t agree to let us treat them. And it’s for your own good. Would you rather have a corpse infection in your shoulder?”

He let loose a soft snort, a quick exhalation of breath. 

Natalie took a breath and placed her fingers at either end of his wound, letting the energy of the Fade settle around her. Letting it dance along her skin, absorb into her muscles. It had been months since that first day that he had helped her find her magic, had shown her how to create fire in her palm, but every time felt like that first time still. The rush of power in her veins, the tingle of electric on her skin. She sent a stream of clean, healing magic into the deep gash, feeling it fill the empty spaces in his skin. It grabbed and held, pulling the wound closed. 

Before long, a clean, white seam lay along his shoulder. She ran her fingertips along it, sending a spark of magic into it. Maybe if she kept the healing up, she could make that mark disappear. She hated to see the gleaming scar tissue marring his skin. 

His shoulder felt like cool silk over steel under her hands. Smooth and soft. She trailed her fingers back and forth across it, the heat of his body bleeding into her hands. His muscles relaxed under her touch, his body shifting infinitesimally into her. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The tent suddenly seemed to rise ten degrees.

“Natalie…” His normally smooth voice was husky, hoarse. He looked up at her, his irises peering out from the corners of his eyes.

She looked up, startled. Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand away. “All done. You’ll have a scar, though.”

He shrugged. “It is not the first scar I carry. Nor will it be the last.”

Snatching his shirt from the cot, she held it out to him. “Here. I will wait outside while you dress again.” 

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist instead of the shirt. “Natalie.”

Turning to face him, she looked down into his solemn face and bottomless eyes. The space seemed to much smaller than it had a few moments ago. She needed to leave. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” And he smiled. Not a half-smile. Not a quirk of the lips. A real smile. It softened his face, easing the lines at the corners of his eyes. Her heart did a quick flip in her chest, disturbing the pack of butterflies that seemed to have taken up permanent residence.

“Any time.”

The flap snapped behind her as she exited the tent. At some point, the sun had begun to set and a cool breeze blew over the plains. It trailed a chill along her skin. Skin she hadn’t realized was so overheated. Her head swam with a whirlpool of confused emotions. Confusion. Fear. And something darker, sweeter.

_ Steady, Nat. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natalie's reaction to shirtless Solas? Accurate depiction of mine the first time I flipped past the Antaam-Saar in Solas' armor menu. Damn.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!


	20. Little Red Riding Hood

A blanket of stars covered the sky, their glittering light the only illumination  beyond the moon and the flickering of the dying campfire. Chill settled into the air, leaving behind a haze of dampness on every surface.  The mood in the camp that night was subdued.  They had eaten their meals in near total silence, the scrape of utensils and the crackling of the flame their only serenade.

Natalie huddled in her cloak, a steaming metal cup of tea clutched in her hand. Hale lay sprawled across the ground with his eyes closed, his pale hair a moonlight stream across her legs as he laid his head in her lap. Her free hand stroked the silvery strands, their weight soft against her skin. He  had been quiet since they  had come back from their forward mission into the Exalted Plains the previous day. The days ride  had been silent. Hale’s jaw set and shoulders tense. Not even the usual banter from Bull and Dorian  had elicited much of a response. What  had happened out there?

Dorian  had retired to his tent a short while ago. She suspected the mood around the fire was too  somber for him, anyway. Bull  had departed after to join a card game a short way across the camp. It left her with Hale’s weight in her lap and Solas across the fire, writing away in some kind of journal. He didn’t seem to pay them very much attention, and she was trying hard to return the favor.  The scratch of a quill on paper.  The clink of the ink jar.  The occasional deep grumble in his throat.  The thin lines of concentration across his forehead. It was distracting.

Confusion  had reigned in her mind since yesterday. No, that was a lie. It  had reigned for months now. It was not a question of if she found him attractive. The kiss in Sahrnia  had haunted her for days. Burning brands where his hands  had gripped her skin lingered in her mind still. Whiffs of warm spice and the dark depths of the forest drifted to her as the rode and made something inside her go fuzzy soft and aching hard at the same time. She dreamed of the hard crush of his arms holding her to his chest, the memory of his fingers in her hair.

But no. It wasn’t just that. It was his intelligence, his passion, his willingness to answer when she peppered him with questions or when she chattered on about whatever thought  had crossed her mind. His stubborn pride.  The tilt of assent in his head as he bent it, just a little.  The wicked streak  masked behind his quiet exterior.  The flashes of sadness in his eyes.

She chewed her lip, still stroking the silvery strands in her hand. Natalie had always found herself with a project for a boyfriend. As much as she wanted to scream yes, she held back. Her last romantic relationship had been two years ago and had left her heart torn to ribbons. Getting involved with another unavailable man was so not on her radar. Even if he had made that interest clear to her now, those words haunted her. “ _I’_ _m afraid_ _this may be another mistake.”_ But damn if she didn’t want to. She wanted him. She couldn’t lie to herself about that. 

Shaking off her thoughts, she decided that she could consider what it all meant another time. She gazed out over the landscape, so different from the snowy mountains she  had existed in for the past months. The dark sentinel  wolf atop the mountains in the distance cast a somewhat menacing pall across the landscape. Deep shadows carved its stone face into harsh relief, cutting its face into base geometry. She  had spent days sneaking glances up at it, wondering.  Wondering about it, about the people who  had built it. What it meant. Its lupine face seemed almost familiar to her,  in a way she couldn’t explain. Like she  had seen it in a dream.

Her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s the story with the  wolf statue on the mountain?”

Hale’s eyes opened, bright green smudged with purple beneath. “What do you mean?”

“How did it get there? Why? What  is it supposed to be?”

Hale’s hair pulled through her fingers as he turned his head to look at the subject of her question. “It’s a  wolf guardian.”

“A  wolf guardian? What is a  wolf guardian?” 

“The Emerald Knights of the Dales used to keep wolves as guardians. They lived and fought beside them. The statue  honors that and also casts a protective eye on the land.” Hale stared up into her face. “We elves have a complicated relationship with wolves.”

Natalie grunted. “Complicated, how?”

Hale sat up, his long legs folding beneath him. “Well, we revere them as protectors, but we also have a god in our pantheon who we call The Dread  Wolf . Fen’Harel, the God of Betrayal.  Dalish clans fear him. We place statues of him outside our camps to turn the eye of harmful spirits from us.”

“You have an evil  wolf god?” Natalie’s brow creased, but then  realized that she sounded like an asshole. “I don’t mean that to be disrespectful.”

Hale nodded. “He betrayed both the Creators and the  ones we call the Forgotten  Ones and tricked them into locking themselves away in the  Beyond . There are many stories of his trickery and deceit. My  favorite was always this one.” Hale took her cup from her hand and drained it. Natalie protested, but he put a finger to her lips to silence her. 

“A village asked Fen’Harel to kill a beast that was threatening them. After he saw the beast, he knew there was no way he could defeat it, so he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked him ‘How are you going to save us?’ and his reply was ‘When did I say I would save you?’  Fen’Harel left the village and that same night, the beast came and killed all the warriors.  And then the women. And then the elderly. When the beast came to eat the children, it opened its great maw only to have Fen’Harel’s arrow fall from the sky into its mouth. The beast fell over dead. The children wept for their dead parents, but they offered their thanks to Fen’Harel. He killed the beast with cunning, a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.”

Natalie sat, stunned by the tale. “Man, that’s quite a story. He did what they asked even if he did it in a way they didn’t expect. I guess my question is… why didn’t they leave? They waited around for someone to help them, knowing this beast would show up and eat them all, and then just sat there when help didn’t come. Why sit around and wait to die?”

Hale laughed. “I can’t answer any of those questions,  lethallan . It’s just an old tale.”

Natalie scratched her head, muddling it over. “If it’s anything like our fables, it’s all hidden meanings. The adults made the foolish decisions, so they brought it upon themselves. Children are innocent, they represent hope and the future. They sacrificed the adults to save the children.  I feel like there has to be more to it than that. I’m not familiar enough with elven culture to figure out what it is.” 

“ Fen’Harel is  a trickster. That’s what the story is about. The people should have known better. That’s why they tell us to avoid him.”

Solas snorted from across the fire. “I would not believe everything in the  Dalish tales. Their legends spread like roots across many miles and are  rarely  the same plant at the end as they were at the beginning.”

Hale gave Solas a baleful look, but ignored his dig. “We use his name as a curse when we wish ill on someone.” He poked her in the side. “May the Dread  Wolf take you!”

Natalie laughed, the muscles in her side contracting as he tickled her. “Hale!”

Hale grinned, digging his fingers into her side. Her body shied away as the unbearable tingling spread across her ribcage. “Hale! Stop!” She said between giggles as she smacked his hand.

A book snapped shut and killed the moment. Laughter died in her throat as the two of them stopped and stared across the fire at Solas. His face was stone and his eyes blazed.

Hale snorted and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Careful, papa is mad.”

The mention of Solas as her father sent a bolt of disgust to her gut.  _ God no. _ She avoided looking at him. She needed to change the subject, and fast. “Wolves are  actually  common figures in mythology where I’m from , as well . There is a popular children’s fable where a girl in a red cape is walking in the forest on the way to her grandmother’s house when she meets a  wolf who tries to entice her off the path. The girl  refuses and the  wolf leaves, but he goes to her grandmother’s house instead. The  wolf eats her grandmother and poses as her to lure the girl in.  Depending on the version, the girl  is eaten or rescued by a woodsman who wants the wolves skin. I always thought it was bullshit.”

Solas’ voice made her peer across the fire at him.  “I find myself curious as to why you would think so.”

His blue eyes were inscrutable as she met them.  “First off, they tell the girl in the story how dangerous the woods are and not to get off the path and not to talk to strangers or else something bad could happen to her.”

“That seems like a reasonable conclusion.” Solas replied.

“No, because the tale an allegory for a woman’s ‘purity’ and it puts the burden on the girl to protect herself when it’s  really  the  wolf who has a responsibility to keep his hands to himself unless invited.”

Solas cocked his head to the side. “ I am inclined to agree with you.  But the forest has many other dangers, not just the wolf.”

Natalie’s blood rose, tingling along her veins.  “I am fully aware of that, but in the context of the story that is what they are saying.  Everything is a metaphor.  The girl’s red cape represents her womanhood. The forest is the unknown, her awakening. That’s why she  is warned to stay on the path. The  wolf is men, or  more specifically,  a potential sexual partner. He takes action that gets her family out of the way. Many versions in our popular culture have strong sexual undertones. The whole thing is a morality tale warning girls not to be promiscuous, and we tell it to children.”

“Or perhaps it is  simply  a tale warning children not to talk to strangers.” Solas’ eyes sparkled. Natalie got the distinct impression he was trying to get a rise out of her.

“Where I’m from, women were only as valuable as their purity until recently . And even sometimes still are.  Men are allowed to sleep around and no one is writing fairy tales warning about that. It’s bullshit.”

“So what you’re  really  saying that the girl should be free to have sex with the  wolf if she wants to?” Hale said, grinning at her.

Natalie sputtered as his ridiculous question penetrated her righteous indignation. “Well, yes. If she wants to.” She shrugged. “ Bodily  autonomy and all that.” The blood  began to rush to her cheeks as a laugh bubbled up her throat.  _ Oh  _ _ jesus _ _ … _ That wasn’t the point she had been trying to make. 

“Well, if that’s what you’re into, I guess.” Hale responded, pressing his lips together  in a bid  to keep himself under control. He failed.

The laughter  finally  choked out of her as Hale howled his own mirth into the sky, his head thrown back. Her face was on fire as the laughter tore from her throat, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. 

It wasn’t until her sides hurt and the laughter had boiled down into hiccuping giggles  that  she remembered that Solas still sat across the fire from them. Natalie dared to glance at him.  His angular face was shadowed by the light of the fire . He was  looking at her intently , a single eyebrow arched over eyes dark with intensity. His long fingers pressed over his mouth. Warmth sprung to life deep in her belly at that look. It was torrid and predatory. She felt the pulse quicken in her throat as she averted her eyes, unable to bear the heat in his eyes.

She coughed softly , clearing her throat. “Well, gentleman, I ’m now going to go to bed before I say anything else to embarrass myself.” The muscles of her inner thighs quivered as she lifted herself from the ground. She fought the urge to press them together as she walked to the edge of the pool of light left by the fire.

“Sleep well. See you in the morning.” Hale waved her off, still grinning.

Solas stood, tucking his book beneath his arm as he slipped his quill and ink into a deep pocket of his tunic. “I am going to retire as well .” He walked toward her, stopping near her shoulder. She could feel the heat of him hovering at her side. His mouth descended toward her ear, lips brushing the outer shell just briefly. A shiver ran down her spine. “Watch out for wolves.” Warm breath caressed her ear for a moment before  he was gone , walking away to his tent.

Sleep was not going to come easy tonight.

 

* * *

“ Are we there yet? ” Natalie whined. She could feel her damp shirt sticking to her skin. After months spent in the snowy temperatures at Haven and  Skyhold , she found she had an intolerance to the  rapidly  warming climate as they cross the Exalted Plains. It was miserable. This trip was miserable. The endless horseback riding was miserable. The sleeping in tents was miserable. The aching muscles were miserable. Seriously, when were they going to be there?

Hale let out a bark of a laugh.  “No. We’ve got about another six days.”

A long groan of disgust left her. “ Seriously ?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes, seriously .”

Natalie folded forward with a sigh, resting her head against Daisy’s coarse mane. The horse flicked her ears, sending the thick hairs to tickle Natalie’s face. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the scenery anymore. If she had thought Sahrnia was bad, this was worse.  Everything about the place had been completely destroyed.  It was dry grass, jagged fortifications, and burning ruins as far as the eye could see. They rode through a forest of ruined trees, their skeletal fingers clawing at the sky in a pained scream. The haze of smoke burned her nose and eyes, making them water terribly .

She wasn’t unaware  that  she was acting like a child. She  just  didn’t  particularly  care.

A yell kicked up from the forward unit. “Archers! East!”

Natalie’s head whipped up, eyes catching the specks of black dotting the sky. It took a minute for her brain to process that they weren’t birds, but arrows. Arrows headed directly for them. Stunned, she watched as the world slowed to a crawl. Black dots became larger, elongating. Her heart thumped in her breast, rattling against her ribs and marking their progress across the sun-bleached sky. The beating sped up, her blood pulsing in her ears, as the arrows got nearer and nearer. There was no noise, the world fell silent around her. Nothing else existed. Only the inevitable approach of that dull metal point.

“Move!” Someone screamed, the voice muffled and distant.  _ Who were they talking to? _

“Natalie, move!” The voice broke through her numbness a moment before a large shape flew at her, knocking her clear off of her horse’s back. An arrow whizzed past her, the rush of air passing past her cheek.  Right where her chest had been only moments before.

The weight bore her to the ground as watery green fell down over her eyes. The smell of spice and evergreen. Her shoulder hit the road as  she was rolled , a shock of pain that left her head spinning. Time regained itself as  she was pulled to stand, still reeling from her abrupt dismount from her horse. The frantic beat of her heart leapt into her throat. 

_ Oh _ _ god.  _ _ Oh _ _ god.  _ _ Oh _ _ god.  _

All around, the soldiers fought ragged, shambling abominations. Some, still mounted, rode through the enemy ranks, leaving trails of  grey flesh and black blood behind them. Others fought on foot, their swords cutting through already decaying flesh like paper.  The scene was covered by a filter of roiling green magic .  _ A barrier.  _ There were so  _ many _ of them. She felt the buzz of fear and adrenaline hit her brain, dulling the pain in her shoulder.

“Stay behind me! Be ready to cast a barrier  if anything  gets close.” Solas stepped in front of her, his hands covering his staff with crackling lightning. The barrier dropped, green bleeding away to leave only the yellowed landscape  beyond . The roar of unleashed magic was deafening.  Petrichor filled her nose as a nearby corpse burst in front of her, splattering her with cold, black blood. 

Clarity of purpose came over her mind as the stench of rotting gore covered her. She pressed her back against Solas’, whipping her staff from her back and holding it out at the ready. Already, the crackle of magic shifted along her fingertips. A gurgling scream filled her ears as an emaciated figure of  grey , pulpy flesh charged her with sword drawn. Its face was a contorted mask of rage. Its blackened teeth gnashed. 

Energy gathered at her hands, running up her arms and into her staff. The head burst into  blinding , purple lightning. She heard a hoarse cry as she steeled her muscles and planted the wooden haft into the ground. Lightning flared, arcing from staff to corpse. The undead warrior took a step back, stunned but not defeated. Again, she drew the Fade to her and lashed out. Again, it stunned but did not stop her enemy. The hulking carcass neared her, its decaying visage filling her vision. 

Just as it reached her, she threw up a barrier and the skeletal warrior hit it, the magical shield crackling and then flinging it backward. Natalie felt a surge of anger in her veins. Another enraged cry rent the air as she swung her staff as hard as she could. The heavy head connected with the side of its skull with a squelch as its brittle bones gave way. Her enemy dropped, its crumpled head leaking blood and oozing brain matter. 

Her stomach turned over, nausea welling in her throat, but she swallowed it down and looked around her.  The battlefield was littered with doughy masses of bodies. Dead all over again.  It seemed that in her epic battle with her single enemy, the rest of their squad had  nearly  routed what remained of the enemy force. Pockets of fighting  still  remained. Hale and Iron Bull took down a final few with Dorian at their backs, the undead falling to the ground in rotting piles. Solas froze two more in enchanted ice so that a group of foot soldiers could finish the job. Knight-Captain Rylen was nearby fighting one last walking corpse, its massive black broadsword swinging down on him. 

She watched in horror as Rylen ducked the blow, only for his opponent to feint and drive the sword  directly  into his gut. The handsome Templar’s eyes went wide as the blade sunk deep, bright red blood welling up and spilling out around it. Natalie breath caught in her throat for a moment before she felt her muscles jolt awake, her legs pumping hard as she dashed across the battlefield. She heard an anguished cry behind her, calling her name, but she paid it no mind. Ahead of her, Rylen fell to his knees. The corpse of his enemy falling  sans head next to him. Her lungs burned as she pushed her legs harder, faster. 

Natalie reached the Captain just as his body fell sideways. Knees skidding against the hard ground, she fell next to him and gathered his head into her lap as her hands went to the blade in his belly. Opening her mind as wide as she could, she let herself become a lodestone for the Fade. Energy swirled around her and into her. She gathered it all up into herself, reaching out to probe at his gut wound. It wasn’t good. The sword had perforated his bowel and oozing poison leaked into his abdomen. She flushed him with energy, trying to stay the bleeding long enough to let her think. 

Cold, sticky fluid hit her face as another  grey corpse fell beside her, a young Inquisition soldier falling to his knees next to Rylen. 

“What do you need?” He said, his eyes intent.

“Grab the sword and pull it straight out, but not until I tell you.” She barked. Readying her hands above the wound, she knew that she was going to need to move quickly as soon as the blade was gone. All those severed veins were going to start gushing once the blockage was removed. Her fingertips buzzed and sizzled as the mana rushed there and held.

She took a deep breath and nodded to the young solder. “Now!”

In one  swift movement, the sword was pulled free. Rylen’s face contorted as a deep gurgling scream issued from his throat. Natalie didn’t have time to make it less painful, and she knew she would feel bad for that later. 

A rush of deep crimson blood tinged with foul black spurted from the wound as she pressed her fingers around it. Time slowed to a crawl as she poured the magic she had amassed inside her into his stomach. Eyes closed, she followed the blaze of healing into his body and watched as the slice in his intestine sealed over, the black ichor no longer having an outlet into his abdominal cavity. Veins pulled together and sealed, the magic flowing in a swift current from her body. 

She held nothing back, allowing it all to gush out of her. It was not delicate. There was no finesse. Hunting through his blood, she used streams of energy to  try to  flush out the toxic fluids. She gave and gave and as she felt the blackness clear from his blood  she was overcome with a wave of dizziness. Her body felt cold, clammy with sweat. But she couldn’t stop now. There was still so much to do.

The energy that had come so  freely  waned, and she struggled to find what she needed to close the wounds on his skin. She pressed her hands to the wound,  dimly  aware of the blood covering her skin past her wrists and the dull shouts of unintelligible voices around her. The Fade swirled around, but she could not grasp it. Could not coax it to her anymore.  _ Please, just a little more… _

Ghostly fingers wrapped around hers, pale purple and hazy. Surprise hit her exhausted mind as she looked up into a kindly , translucent face of a young woman. She was there, but not. Skeletal trees and bodies were  clearly  visible through the substance of her body. Natalie’s eyes widened as her new companion smiled. 

“Who…” Natalie whispered.

The woman smiled and shook her head, gripping Natalie’s hands and moving them over Rylen’s wound. Brilliant light poured from Natalie’s fingers and sunk deep into the wound. Electricity zapped along her nerves, snapping inside her brain with bursts of light. She felt her mouth stretch as her hands moved on their own volition. Rylen and the soldiers and the fallen undead faded from view behind a blazing fire of purple. She was floating, weightless. Her body soaring into the sky as more power than she had ever felt before  funneled through her body. It was transcendent. Euphoric. She was no longer Natalie Brooks. She was fire and passion and light.

And then she fell. Her consciousness hit her body like a freight train. Breath left her lungs as the world reformed around her. A kind, ghostly face smiled  softly  and kissed her brow, before drifting from view. 

Shouting pierced through the fog as she stared at Rylen’s healed wound and pale face. Numbly , she watched as her hands pressed against his neck. A beat, shallow and weak. But there. Her eyes raised to the young soldier beside her, still clutching the blood-coated sword. Eyes wide in his blood-splattered face, almost frightened. 

_ What is his problem? _ She wondered dimly . 

Knees wobbled as she raised her disjointed body from the ground, the muscles in her legs lodging a screeching protest. Feet felt like blocks of stone as she tried to take a heaving, ponderous step. Her vision blurred and twisted and then focused again on Solas’ face before her. His dear, wonderful face. 

Another step.

Her legs buckled beneath her. Warm, strong arms lifted her from the ground, clutching her to a firm chest. 

Safe. 

Loved.

The smell of Christmas morning as she drifted away.

Natalie roused a while later to the lilting jolt of a horse beneath her. Warmth cocooned her in its bleary grip. Something firm lay beneath her cheek as she nuzzled herself deeper, the brush of fabric soft with age on her skin. A buzz of static along her skin.

Warmth. 

Heaviness. 

Darkness. 

The slap of canvas. A soft pile of blankets beneath her as she snuggled in, weary to her bones. She could feel him before she could see him. His hands firm as he tucked  the coverings around her . She knew who it was, his steady presence familiar. Natalie opened her eyes and reached shaking fingers out to grasp his hand. 

“Stay.” She rasped. 

His blue eyes were  deep and dark as a bottomless ocean. “I should not.”

“Please.” Her voice was  soft, weak . 

A heavy sigh. Weight settling on the pallet beside her, tentative at first. Distant. Then falling against her. Long arms drawing her to his chest, his body resting flush along her back and legs. Hot breath fluttered against her neck as his face buried in her hair. Nose burrowed in the crook of her neck and shoulder. 

It had been so long since she had been held.

She  savoured the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, letting it lull her.

Her body gave up, and blackness claimed her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	21. Fenorain

Her first awareness was of warmth and weight. Cheeks warmed by the sun. Softness beneath and around her, cushioning her as well as any cloud. A weight lay along her side and stomach, leaving trails of tingling behind. Her limbs felt loose, elastic, like they could stretch over field and forest and furrow. Consciousness as far away as the stars. It dripped back into her skull as her limbs curled in closer, her body and soul melding back into a single entity.

 _This must be what heaven feels like_.

As her brain slowly rejoined the waking world, she realized that she _hurt_. The dull ache of sore muscles after a long workout, tight and weak at the same time. Stiff joints protested. And somehow, a troop of parading elephants had taken up residence in her skull. Vaguely, the memory of another morning she had woken up feeling like this rose to the front of her brain. Except she was fairly sure that there hadn't been any pub crawls last night.

She peeled her eyes open. First one. Then the other. Vision blurred and watery. Plain brown canvas came into view above her, pale sunlight filtering through the thick fabric. The air was stuffy from the heat of the day. Her mind was fuzzy as she squinted against the light. She couldn’t remember where she was or what had happened. Cotton filled her mouth, her tongue thick with it.

_Why do I feel so heavy?_

The realization that she was not alone in the bed was a shock, to say the least. Turning her head, her body jolted slightly as she was she was greeted by the sight of long limbs, pointed ears, and pale freckled skin. He lay sprawled across her. Arm circling her waist. Legs entwined beneath the covers. Head tucked against her shoulder. He slept like a child, cuddling and clinging, uncaring of his position in his need to be as close as possible.

 _Maybe I’m wrong about that pub crawl. Was there a binge drinking session I don’t remember?_ That seemed like the only explanation for why Solas would be snuggled up in bed with her. It was a shame that she had missed whatever had apparently preceded it. Admittedly, she had thought about waking up next to him in the morning before, but she usually remembered the certain activity that came before it.

And then it all rushed back to her. The battle. Killing the undead. Watching Rylen fall. Healing him. The strange woman. She must have passed out afterward. She had the fuzzy recollection of being on a horse. Of traveling. Of being laid down. Of grabbing his hand and asking him to stay. She felt a pressure in her head as she realized that he was here because she had asked him to be. The memories were only in fits and starts, but they were there.

Her heart turned over in her chest as she studied him. Solas was softer in sleep, his face relaxed and unlined. He looked so much younger, missing the gravitas he carried while awake. She was captivated by the play of light along the planes of his face, carving his skin into ageless marble. The sight of him so vulnerable was a like a bolt of light straight to her chest, leaving a strange fizzing behind. It swelled and flowed through her into veins until it hit her brain with the stunning realization that she wanted him. She wanted this. She wanted to wake up to his face in the morning. To his limbs climbing her like a vine. To the warm weight of him pressed against her.

Almost involuntarily, Natalie reached out to trace his eyebrow, the curve of his jaw. His skin was smooth silk beneath her hand. She traced the scar above his brow, trailing her fingers over the slight indentation. He stirred as she reached his ear, following the shell, learning the geometry of the elegant point. Natalie had been fascinated by those ears since the day they met. His were so much more pronounced than those of the other elves she knew thus far.

His bleary blue eyes opened as she traced the tip of his ear. Nose crunching, he blinked before rubbing his face against her shoulder with a string of unintelligible grumbles. It was a gesture that made her chuckle. Who would have thought that arrogant, erudite Solas woke up in the morning like a grumpy toddler?

She felt her face stretch into a grin as she shifted her body toward him. Her palm lay against the side of his face, her fingers still tracing the lobe of his ear idly. Solas groaned deep in his chest, his body pressing against her. The sound rumbled through her, settling in the places deep inside her as her breath caught in her throat.

Solas’ hand flew up to cover hers, stilling her questing fingers. “I would not continue that, fenorain.” His voice was deep and gravely with sleep, like flowing water over a rocky streambed. It did things to her that left her empty and aching.

Heart thumping in her chest, she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Or what?”

With a growl, his body surged from the pallet and she found herself rolled onto her back, pinned beneath his hips and arms. She felt her heartbeat race as she stared up at him. Her skin burned where he touched her, head swimming with his warm scent.

Sleepy, half-lidded eyes burned into her skin as he regarded her. “Do not test me.”

Natalie’s lids drooped as she fixed her eyes on his mouth. His lovely full mouth. She wanted to push him, the reckless part of her wanting to see what happened if she tipped him over the edge. It was so, so tempting.

Hands skimming up his shoulders, she looped her arms around his neck and stared up at him, challenge in her eyes. “Oh, but I really want to.” She whispered.

Something snapped in his eyes, the sleepy blue going pointed and feral as his mouth crashed down on hers. It was hungry. Violent. Lips and teeth clashing together. Meeting, pressing, retreating. A hand tangled into her already wild hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. Warmth spread over her skin as Solas abandoned his skirmish for her mouth and trailed flaming kisses across her neck. Teeth gripped her ear and she let out a gasp as tingles spread through her belly.

Hands found fabric and then skin. Fingers pressing, nails scratching. A low moan ripped from her throat as his hand covered her breast beneath her shirt. Kneading. His mouth reclaimed her, their tongues twisting together. Battling for dominance. It was both too much and not enough. She wanted so much more. She wanted to sink into him, meld into one being. She needed him closer. Much closer.

Then as quick as it began, it was over. Solas yanked his hands away and was kneeling at the foot of her pallet, eyes wild, face flushed, lips swollen. Natalie sat up, half a mind to chase him across the tent. She was on fire, the dull throbbing between her legs demanding to be eased. And only he could do it. He had never looked so appealing as he did right now, with his naked soul glowing from his eyes. Fierce and sad and proud and _angry._ And definitely awake, the sleepy softness gone.

_Angry?_

His hands gripped her shoulder hard as he shook her. “You beautiful little fool. Do not ever do something so idiotic again.”

 _He thinks I’m beautiful?_ She shook her head, filing that confession away to obsess over later. She felt her brow crinkle in confusion. “What? Kiss you? Because I can tell you now that I plan to.”

Something dark flared in his eyes before he shook her again. “Fenhedis.” He hissed. “That is not what I am referring to. I meant your supremely stupid plan to run undefended across a battlefield and then nearly kill yourself healing someone. Do you even realize how many times you could have been killed?”

Natalie’s ardor was sufficiently dampened by that, but she would not back down. “Rylen would have died.”

“And you would have as well!”

“I’m a healer! I was just doing my job!”

“Su an’banal i’ma! Not if it means trading your life for!” He shouted.

Natalie was taken aback. She had never heard Solas yell before. Never seen him truly furious as he was now. Her jaw clenched together as she glared at him with steely eyes. “I will not sit by and watch someone die when I could help. And if you’re going to curse at me, do it in a language I understand!”

His eyes closed, and she could see the veins ticking in his temples. When they opened again, they seared into her. A well of pain and sadness. “You should have waited until it was safe. I watched you get nearly cut in half by undead, and then as you drained yourself to save that _Templar_.” He spit the word at her. ”If you had just stopped to think for a moment, you would have had help. But instead, you thought it was wise to do it all yourself with no regard for what was happening.”

She felt a heavy lump in her throat. He was right, she realized. Running off to help without paying attention had not been her wisest decision. “It was stupid.” She admitted. “I didn’t think, and I’m sorry.”

He let out a heavy sigh, his hands sliding from her shoulders to cup her jaw. “I have no doubt that someday you will be in full control of your abilities, but you are not as of yet. Being a mage is a lifetime of study and you have only scratched the barest surface, no matter how skilled you are with healing. What you did letting yourself drain that way would have killed you if you had succeeded. I can only give thanks to the spirit that arrived to help you.”

“I didn’t realize that is what I was doing.” She admitted. “I was so focused on reaching for the little bit more I needed to heal Rylen.”

“It’s because you are inexperienced. But you will learn, and now you know what that line feels like. Although, I have seen you near it before so I am surprised that you could not tell. You need to learn control.” His face hardened. “Do not make the same mistake again.”

Natalie nodded, turning her eyes away. She had never considered herself a reckless person, but that is exactly what she had been. She was ashamed. “I will be careful.” Her hands fidgeted in her lap, the air tense and awkward. “Is that what she was? A spirit?”

Solas nodded, his voice softening by the slightest measure. “Indeed. I tried to find her in the Fade after we stopped to make camp, but it seems that she did not choose to follow.”

She felt a shiver run down her spine. “So she’s gone?”

Solas nodded. “It seems so. At least for the present moment. What did she say to you?”

Natalie shook her head. “Nothing. She didn’t say anything. Just smiled. And then she faded away.”

He hummed in his throat, his eyes suddenly far away. “Fascinating.”

“What does it mean? That a spirit came to help.”

Solas released her jaw and pulled away. “I will have to think on it more. In the present, it means that there are currently some extremely suspicious Templars outside your door. Only a few saw what you did, but it was enough.”

“Do they think I am possessed?” She felt a stab of fear.

“I would imagine it is likely that some do. You can be sure that you will have many eyes on you now. I tried to explain it to them, but fear is a strong motivator for stupidity. And I am afraid that my word as an elf and an apostate mage does not hold much weight.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Great. Just perfect.”

“I will try to search the Fade and find the spirit who came to you. I admit that I am curious as to what the motivation was for it to help you.”

Her head snapped up. “Will you take me with you?”

He looked momentarily stunned. “To the Fade?”

“You’ve done it before. I deserve to know what happened too. To talk to her if you find her.”

“I was under the impression that you were opposed to that. How did you phrase it? Ah, yes. ‘Digging around in your head.’”

“That was different. This is me telling you that you have my consent. But know that it isn’t blanket permission to just poke around wherever you feel like it.”

Solas inclined his head. “I will respect your boundaries.”

“Good.” Her body felt heavy beneath her still pounding head as a sinking thought crossed her mind. She felt guilty for not having asked sooner. “How is Rylen?”

Solas’ lips compressed into a thin line. “Alive and well. I daresay he came out of this better than you did.”

“I’m glad.” She smiled.

He gave her a curious look before shaking his head with a sigh. “If you are feeling quite up to it, it may be best to face the Inquisitor sooner rather than later. Last I saw, he was ready to tear apart the camp with his bare hands. And he likely already knows you are awake.”

“How would he know that?”

“I am sure the shouting was a clue. Canvas does not tend to hold in very much sound.” The corner of his mouth quirked, just a bit.

Natalie huffed a small laugh. “Valid point.” And then her cheeks burned at the implication of his words. “Very valid point.”

“I will bring you something to eat.” Solas rose from the pallet and straightened his clothing, a small smile touching his face as he did so. The canvas flap smacked closed behind him.

Hale was, indeed, brilliantly, explosively angry. By the time she emerged from her tent with a clean set of clothing and a full belly, and feeling somewhat more human, he looked ready to chew bricks. He was especially enraged that Solas had not allowed him in to berate her as she ate, insisting that she needed time to collect herself after waking up. After all was said and done, an hour had passed and Hale was ready to kill anyone in his path. His white hair was a wild halo around his hair, and his green eyes spoke of death and dismemberment.

He was on her in an instant. “I swear that you are dead if you ever pull something that stupid again.” He poked a finger into her chest, backing her against the tent.

Natalie laughed ruefully, trying to break the tension. “Yeah, I _will_ be dead.”

Hale's face darkens. “Fen'Harel ver na! This is not a laughing matter!”

The joke died in her throat. “Hale, I know. Solas already had quite a few words for me on the subject.”

“Yeah? Well now I have a few more for you.” the look in his eyes was positively murderous. “What you did endangered you.” He poked her in the chest again. “It also endangered the soldier that had to swoop in to keep you from getting gutted.” He pointed toward the train ground. His movement jerky. “And it endangered Solas, who went after you.”

Natalie's eyes flew to Solas, his face impassive behind Hale. She hadn't realized that he had come after her during the battle. Although, in hindsight she wasn't surprised. That must’ve been who she heard yelling after her as she ran toward Rylen.

“We appreciate that Rylen survived because of you, but what you did was dangerous and irresponsible. You are not a trained fighter, and you're only a half-trained mage. Do not ever take matters into your own hands like that again.” Hale's voice was like stone, battering into her.

“Hale, I know it was dumb. It will never happen again.”

“And then there is the matter of whatever came and helped you. We have been told that whatever spirit or demon it was left afterwards, but you will submit to an inspection by Rylen and the other Templars to ensure that you have not been possessed.”

She nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I understand.”

Hale's face softened as he gripped her face in both of his hands and leaned his forehead against hers. “Avys esaya gera assan i'esa'av'ingala.”

Natalie's hands fit over his as she closed her eyes and let out a small chuckle. “What did you just say to me?”

“I called you a moron.” He replied, not missing a beat.

“Moron sure has a lot of letters in elven.”

“It needs them to adequately express just how idiotic you are.”

Natalie laughed softly as Hale released her head and took her elbow instead, leading her away to a quiet pocket of the camp. He swiveled his head to and fro, making sure they were out of earshot of anyone else before he turned to her with a serious expression. “And now that I have fulfilled my part as the leader of the Inquisition, I can ask what I really want to know. Are you okay?”

She met his gaze, shrugging. “I guess so? My body hurts and I have a killer headache, but I think I'm fine.”

“I didn’t see it happen, but I heard about it. And I saw you afterward.” He yanked her toward him and hugged her so hard she swore she heard ribs crack. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He said into her hair.

Wrapping her arms around him to return the embrace, she squeezed him back. “I will try really hard not to.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed. “You should have seen Solas. I've never seen him look quite so disturbed. He wouldn't let anyone near you. I think he even _growled_ at me.”

She pulled away to look at him incredulously. “Seriously?”

Hale finally loosened his grip and let her go. “Oh yes. If the situation had been even slightly less serious, I would have been laughing my ass off.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his suggestion. She didn't want to admit to herself how much she liked the idea of Solas acting as her protector. But then again he already had on multiple occasions. A warm spot grew in her chest, leaving her limbs feeling light and fuzzy.

“What's with the smile?” Hale asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

“What?” Natalie looked up, realizing that she had indeed been smiling like a witless idiot.

“God, the two of you…” He shook his head, letting out a laugh. “I swear the temperature will drop two degrees once you both get your heads out of your asses and finally let it happen.”

If her face had been burning before, it was on fire now. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Let me explain it then. Sometimes when two people really, really like each other--”

Natalie hit him in the chest. “Oh my _god,_ Hale!”

Laughter answered her, full and loud and long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen translations:  
> fenorain - "little precious", similar to darling  
> Fen'Harel ver na! - "Dread Wolf take you"  
> Su an’banal i’ma - "To the Void with you!"  
> Avys esaya gera assan i'esa'av'ingala - "You would try to catch an arrow with your teeth!", or you are a moron
> 
>  
> 
> Hello lovelies! Whew! This week was nuts. Had a super stressful event at work and I was worried I wasn't going to get this finished. But I did! Hope you all enjoyed it. :) Thank you to all of you who are reading, and leaving kudos and comments.


	22. Dangerous Woman

Apparently, the only thing worse than bone-chilling cold was eye-melting heat. Heat that makes your skin dry and tight, your mouth sticky, and your head faint. Natalie swiped the back of her hand across her sweating forehead in a futile attempt to keep the droplets from falling into her eyes as she swept the last of the debris out of the room she had commandeered for an infirmary. Griffon Wing Keep, as it turned out, was a wreck. A moldering pile of stone and plaster. It needed weeks upon weeks of work to make it truly habitable and functional as a forward operating position. Overrun by hostile mages, falling apart in places, and now liberally splashed with blood after the furious battle to liberate it, the conditions were not what she would call entirely livable. They didn’t even have a reliable source of clean water, as the prior owners had filled the well with rotting corpses. Joy!

_ Next time Hale tries to talk me into something like this, I’m going to tell him to get bent. _

Natalie flopped down heavily on top of one of the crates the soldiers had dropped just inside the door a short while ago and surveyed the room. The newly cleaned floor was already covered with a fine layer of sand again, despite her furious sweeping. It needed a thorough scrub, a scrub that would be impossible with no well. A pile of dusty cots lay in a pile, ready to be set up in a neat row. Shelves lined the far wall above a table scarred with knife wounds and suspicious stains, waiting to be filled with supplies and potions. 

Everything needed to be boiled and sterilized after the long journey, but the sheer amount of sand and soot that filled the keep told her that nothing left out would stay clean for long. Bleach. She wondered how hard it would be to invent medieval bleach. It was probably a skill beyond the single college chemistry class she had taken more than ten years ago. Oh well.

Heaving herself up again, she lifted the first of the cots to begin setting them up. She made a mental note to track down sets of bedding and pillows later, once she had everything together. She was bound and determined to have the entire clinic set up and running smoothly before the rest of the Chantry sisters arrived next week to assist her. Mother Giselle had entrusted this task to her and she would not fail.

She was deep in thought, sprawled on the floor trying to fit the legs of a cot together when a tentative knock against the door frame made her turn. A young soldier stood at the door, her face drawn and her stance nervous. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else other than standing here talking to Natalie.

“Can I help you with something?”  Natalie asked, looking up from her position on the floor. She made sure to keep her voice soft. The poor girl looked ready to bolt.

“I… um…” She stuttered, wringing her hands.

Natalie waited for the rest, but it never came. Standing up, she wiped her hands along the edges of her tunic, not that it was much cleaner. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

The girl sighed and looked up, her brown eyes wide. “I was hoping… um… I could get some elfroot and bandages.”

Natalie’s brow creased. “Sure. Are you hurt? I am happy to take a look.”

Her eyes hit the floor again. “It’s… it’s not for me, lady.”

“Please, it’s alright. You can tell me what is going on.” Natalie gestured for the girl to enter, but she continued to hover in the doorway.

Tears filled her eyes. “I told him to come up and let you look at it, but he won’t.”

“Told who? Let me look at what?” Natalie pried gently, taking a couple of steps toward her.

“My brother. His leg. He’s… he’s got a bad cut from the battle.”

By the “battle”, Natalie could only assume she meant the fight to claim the Keep the previous day. “Someone has been hurt since yesterday and has done nothing about it?” In this environment, he was probably in a lot of pain and had the beginnings of a nasty infection. Idiot.

A fat streak rolled down the dirt on the girl’s face, leaving behind a strip of pale skin. “He… he said he wouldn’t let an ab…” Her eyes darted to Natalie’s face. “An abomination touch him.” Her face cringed, as if she expected Natalie to hit her.

Her heart sunk into her stomach and a burn spread across the back of her neck. Natalie couldn’t say she was shocked by the revelation that some of the soldiers were still wary of her. The spirit healing had spooked a good number of them, convincing them she was possessed and ready to corrupt them all at a moments notice. Rylen and a couple of the other Templars had conducted a lengthy interrogation after the healing incident. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the hours spent as they poked and prodded at her. Try to “coax the demon out”, they said. Having her repeat the story of what happened over and over. In the end, Hale had finally rescued her and Rylen had declared her free from possession. For now… But words were just words, and the more devout and superstitious of the group still glared at her with hate-filled eyes.

“Please, lady.” The girls rushed forward when Natalie did not answer right away. “He is not a bad person. He has just been listening to too many stories!”

Natalie held up her hands in front of her. “Please call me Natalie. I’m not a lady.” 

Heart aching, she crossed to pull the top from the nearest crate. The green aromatics of its contents wafted up to her nose as she rummaged around, the bundles of neatly tied herbs rustling as they moved.  _ Elfroot for pain. Prophet’s Laurel and garlic for infection. Honey… where’s the honey?  _ She hummed softly to herself as she opened a second crate, seeking the earthenware jars she knew contained the sweet liquid. 

Arms full, she dropped the jars and bundles on the table before flipping open a third crate for her knives and mortar and pestle.  _ Wrong one! _ Scratch that. A fourth crate. 

“What is your name?” She asked, her face firmly buried in the box of instruments.

The answer came amid the sound of sniffling. “Alys.”

“And your brother’s?” 

“Cedric.”

She thunked the mortar and pestle onto the table triumphantly. “What made you join the Inquisition, Alys?” She tried to keep her voice light as she sliced up a few cloves of garlic on a clean cutting board and dumped them into the mortar. 

“M’brother joined up. Said he wanted to help close the Breach. I just followed.” The girl sniffed and rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. 

“You must love your brother very much.”

Alys stared at her feet, silent. Natalie should have known better.

The hollow thunk of the knife sounded in the room, echoing slightly off the stone walls. “I’m going to slice this garlic up and then crush it. The juices are antimicrobial and can help stop bleeding and infection.” She slid the rest of the chopped herb into the mortar, picking up the jar to pour some honey in with it. “Honey does the same. It can help draw out any infection that is already there, and kill any new bacteria. Prophet’s Laurel is for purification.” She added, breaking off some little sprigs and sprinkling them into the pungent mixture. 

She eyed the young girl as she twisted the pestle around, stone scraping against stone. “You’ll need to put this on his wound twice a day and cover it with clean dressings. Make sure you thoroughly wash it each time before you put new dressings on. Remove all of the old salve before you put on more.”

Still no response. Alys stood as still as a statue, her eyes fixed anywhere but on Natalie.

The thick brownish mixture swirled in the mortar as she tested the viscosity. Not too runny. Perfect. Placing it in a jar, she pressed it into Alys’ shaking hands. “The elfroot can be cut and rubbed along the wound for topical relief, or he can chew it. It should help with the pain. If his leg gets angry red, hot to the touch, or doesn’t start to heal in a couple of days, please come get me and I will do whatever he will allow me to.” She stacked clean bandages and a bundle of elfroot on the jar. 

Alys looked at her with tears in her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispered. 

“Don’t mention it.” Natalie smiled at her. “Remember what I said, okay?” 

The girl nodded and rushed from the room, her arms full. Natalie watched her leave from the door, the girl’s retreating back making her chest ache. She had known, when she woke up and remembered what had happened, that people were not going to react favorably. Being confronted by the reality of other people’s fear and mistrust was quite another matter altogether.

Regardless of all she had done to help, Alys had been terrified of her. She had all but begged Natalie to forgive her brother his prejudice. For what? So she didn’t hurt him? A little tendril of annoyance wormed its way into her brain. As if she would. She was a healer. She would never intentionally hurt someone that asked her for help. The very idea was repugnant, and that insinuation was more insulting than any fear over her status as a mage or a spirit healer or whatever the hell she was now. 

“D’you need me to have a word with some of my men?” The thick brogue broke through her bad mood.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Captain.” Natalie felt coldness start in her gut. “Keeping an eye on me? I still can’t be trusted?”

Rylen pushed away from the wall beside the wall and stood before her, his eyes trained on her face. “I don’t not trust you, Natalie. We just have to be safe.”

“I’m barely a mage, Rylen. I think you can sleep soundly.”

His face closed down. “We both know that’s not true. I may not remember what happened, but I have a shiny scar on my stomach as proof that your magic was powerful enough to save me.” His arms crossed over his chest as he sighed. “I never did thank you for that.”

She scoffed, the noise harsh out of her throat. “I was just doing my job.”

“Are you sure about that?” His mouth quirked up in a sardonic smile.

Natalie narrowed her eyes. Beyond the uncomfortable interrogation after they had both rejoined the land of the living, he had not seen fit to speak to her at all since the battle with the undead. It had been as if nothing had ever happened. If anything, he had been colder toward her after she saved his life then he ever was before. “Why are you here, Rylen? Can I help you with something?”

“I came to make sure you have everything you need. Do you need someone to move the crates around for you? Help set anything up?”

She studied him. “I think I have what I need. Unless you can send me a magic wand that I can wave and make all the sand disappear?”

His smile bloomed into a genuine one. “If only, lass. But then what would get under my clothes and itch all those places I can’t reach for me?”

She laughed, the heaviness lifting from her brain just a little. “Oh, that would be a tragedy.”

“Indeed, it would.” His laughter trailed off and his face turned serious. “For what my opinion is worth to you, I don’t think you are dangerous.”

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “You have to say that, I saved your life.”

“You will let me know if anyone bothers you? Harasses you?”

“I will let you know if anyone does anything worth your time looking into.” Natalie planted her hands firmly on her hips. “I am an adult, Rylen, and I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I want to make sure my men aren’t causing a problem.”

“No one is a problem. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding. “The Inquisitor sent word. He and his party are delayed, and will be back as a soon as they have concluded their business. He instructed me to tell you.”

“Are they alright?” She could feel her heartbeat speed up in her chest. Immediately, she assumed the worst. One of them was hurt. Something terrible had happened.

Rylen waved his hands in front of him. “Nothing like that. Their mission is just taking longer than planned.”

She took a breath. It was hard to feel relieved at his words when a terrible weight had settled on her heart. “Ah, well, thank you for letting me know.”

The pair of them stood there for several long minutes, staring at each other. Gradually, the atmosphere became more and more awkward as neither of them spoke. Rylen’s mouth opened a couple of times. Obviously, he had something else he wanted to tell her but couldn’t figure out how. 

After several slowly passing minutes, she couldn’t bear it any longer. “If there is nothing else, I have a ton of work to do.”

His nod was brusque. “Right. I will let you get back to it then.”

Rylen spun and walked away abruptly. Natalie found herself puzzled at their whole exchange. Why had he been outside the door? What had he wanted to say to her? 

What were Hale and the other doing that could have delayed them? 

She found herself strangely uneasy as she returned to her crates to begin the long job of unpacking, a great yawning pit opening in her stomach.

 

* * *

Tall trees rose skyward on all sides of her as she walked through the quiet forest, feet bare against the soft undergrowth. It was a strange kind of silence for such a place. No birds chirped. No twigs snapped beneath her steps. No crickets, or rustling leaves. Nothing. And yet, she could feel eyes on her, peering through the trees. 

She did not feel unsettled by the silence and scrutiny. She walked slowly, calmly. Her feet took it upon themselves to carry her on a path her brain did not know, twisting through elms and oaks and maples. Whispers accompanied her as her long white skirt flowed across the ground behind her, brushing along the fallen leaves rich with vibrant sunset colors.

Soft fabric whispered across her bare legs as she moved, caressing her skin like a lover. Her body was light, weightless. Feet moving faster, she began to jog. The scenery rolled past her, a blur of red and orange and green. She felt something tight and knotted release within her. Laughter fluttered up her throat, fizzing like bubbles in her stomach before leaving her mouth in a torrent of foam. Her heart felt freer than it had in quite a while. She skipped and bounded, hopping lightly over fallen limbs and softly fluttering ferns. A cloud of sheer white fabric and long, dark curls trailed behind her. 

A cliff cut her joyful flight short, her feet skidding to a halt near the edge. Tiny pebbles flew over the edge, tinkling down the stone face as they fell. A sea of trees, all decked out in their autumnal best, lay at her feet. She stood there, absorbing it all. She imagined the pain and tension of the past days as stones, and chucked them over the edge.

Eventually, the soft fall of feet came from behind her, breaking into her reverie. The warmth of a body fell on her shoulders, teasing but not touching. So close, yet apart. 

“We should really come up with a code word so I know it’s really you.” Her voice cracked the silence, cutting through it like a knife. 

“Are you sure it is me? I could easily be a construct of the Fade, given life by your imagination.” His answering rumble sent shivers down her spine. 

A grin split her face as she closed her eyes, reaching out for the feel of him with her mind. Her body swayed back, resting against his chest. Melting into him. “It is. I can just tell.”

Gentle fingers brushed up her bare arm. “You can ‘just tell?’” He asked, his voice betraying no emotion. 

“I can. You just  _ feel  _ like you.” Since the morning she had woken up in his arms, there was less distance between them every day. Something had shifted. She no longer hesitated to reach out to him, and he was no longer so quick to pull away. Her heart had obviously made a decision that her mind was unwilling to. It seemed like maybe his was starting to agree. But you never could tell with him.

He made a rumble in his throat, an amused noise. Not quite a laugh.

“I was hoping you would find me tonight.” She said that, but she knew he would. Their nighttime explorations in the Fade had become a more frequent habit in the days since that sleepy morning. Though they had yet to locate the mysterious spirit. “Rylen told me that you all are stuck dealing with some things.” She whispered, savoring the feel of him on her skin.

“Ah, yes. Unpleasant business.” His fingers crested her shoulder and began to descend again.

“Are you safe?”

“It is nothing we are not capable of dealing with. We located some of the missing Gray Wardens, in thrall to a Venatori servant of Corypheus. There were… complications.” He said the final word with a sharp huff of breath. He sounded troubled. 

“Complications?” She lay her head back against his shoulder, giving herself room to peer up at his face. His warmth seeped into her cheek where it rested against him. 

Blue eyes met hers. “It is not a topic we should discuss in the Fade. We may attract attention that we would be wise to avoid. I will share it with you when we return, if the Inquisitor does not first.”

Eyes rolling, she shook her head. “He doesn’t tell me if he decides its too violent. It’s his most annoying habit.”

“It is not a pleasant topic, and I fear that it is only going to get worse before it is resolved.”

“You would be surprised how much unpleasantness I’ve seen in my life. Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

His eyes closed as he nodded. “I know you are not. You possess a strength of will that continues to surprise me.”

She chuckled and lazily reached up to bring his face down close to hers. Her heart beat a reckless tattoo in her breast. “Is that so?”

“It is.” His blue eyes sharpened, his voice speaking dark promises as his fingers trailed up her throat. “I do not doubt you could have the world on their knees before you, if you so desired.”

“I’ve never wanted the world. I’d settle for just one person.” She stroked her fingers along his jaw. “Especially if he’s on his knees.” Her lips met his cheek in a soft kiss before she twisted out of his grasp. “We should go hunt for my missing spirit. The night is wasting away.”

He watched her with fire in his eyes as she walked toward the tree line, casting glances over her shoulder at him. “Coming?”

For a moment, a dark shadow passed over him, turning his features pointed and feral. Just a flash. A brief glimpse behind the calm mask he wore. As quick as it came, it was gone. He was the same as he always appeared. 

But she saw. And something inside her nodded in agreement.


	23. Tired and Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 2 days late but twice as long as usual. That makes up for it, right? 
> 
> Enjoy!

Despite what he had promised her in the Fade, he never got the chance to explain it to her once their group returned to the Keep after their mission. In fact, he didn’t explain much of anything. The returning party had been swept into a series of meetings immediately after coming back, spending tense hours behind wooden doors that couldn’t quite mask the raised voices. In a matter of hours, the situation in the Western Approach had gone from bad to worse. The garrison was alight with the news that the Grey Wardens had abandoned the people of Thedas to pursue an unholy alliance with the Venatori mages of the Tevinter Imperium. Reactions were mixed in the rank and file, ranging from angry denial to abject horror. Overall, the consensus seemed to be that it had to be taken care of. And fast.

Natalie would have loved to corner Hale or Solas and put pins under their fingernails until they told her everything, but that had just not been possible between her duties and this new situation. She saw Solas in snatched moments and fleeting caresses, both of them too busy for anything more. A hushed greeting. A whispered phrase. A hurried touch of hand on arm. She had stood in the Fade for nights waiting, only to be left on her own.

Mere hours after they had brought the hurricane in with them, the awaited group of Chantry sisters had arrived to assist her. Like a group of chattering schoolgirls, they had descended on the infirmary and immediately monopolized her every waking hour. There was barely a moment to breathe. Every time she went to escape or to track down Hale or one of the others, one of them caught her with another question or a problem to solve. Pretty soon, the color red was going to cause a Pavlovian response to run and hide.

Hale did eventually come to check on her. He caught her in the makeshift storage room they had set up in an empty room near the infirmary, taking an inventory to send back to Skyhold at Josephine’s request. 

“Busy little bunny, aren’t you?”

“I thought nicknames were Varric’s thing?” She replied, her face still firmly planted in her parchment. The logistics of quill use were still a trial for her, especially while standing. It required intense concentration not to leave blobs of ink all over the paper.

“I’ll be sure to apologize for co-opting his nickname then, when he gets here.” Hale chuckled lightly, the sound stiff and brittle.

Natalie finally turned to look at at him. He looked rough, his face lined and drawn in a way that spoke volumes about the current situation. “Varric is coming?”

Hale hitched his leg up and sat on top of a nearby crate, nodding wearily. “Yep, as well as a good deal of the others. And a decent portion of the army. Commander Cullen is marching them here as we speak.”

She felt a jolt of shock course through her veins. Her fingers gripped the quill clutched between them. “Is the situation that bad?”

“Probably worse.” He sighed as he closed his eyes and propped his chin on his hand. His voice was entirely too casual to go with his words.

Natalie stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. When he failed to, she prodded him with her toe. “‘Probably worse.’ That’s all the answer I’m getting?”

His eyes opened, their normally bright green dull and tired. “Natalie, they’re sacrificing each other to bind demons to themselves. Blood magic. Ritual human sacrifice.”

Horror gripped her, twisting her gut. Human sacrifice. The very idea was bloodcurdling. “Oh my god.” She breathed.

“We’re planning to attack the fortress where they Grey Wardens have holed up with their Venatori overlord. We have to put a stop to it.”

“Oh course we do. That’s horrible.” She could feel her jaw hanging open and she clamped it shut, her teeth gritting together. A churning pit of nausea settled in her gut.

“That’s why I came to see you. The army is bringing mages and healers with them, but I need to you put together a group to accompany them to the front.” His eyes narrowed as he smirked at her. “As much as I would love to forbid you from coming, I imagine you’d find a way to anyway.”

Natalie’s lips quirked up and she flopped onto the crate beside him. “You know me so well. I can’t send the Chantry sisters out there on their own. I am, somehow, in charge of that gaggle of clucking hens.”

Hale laughed, a quick burst of air through his nostrils. “I’ll allow it. On the condition that you stay back with the other healers.”

“But—“ she argued.

Hale held up a hand to silence her. “No. No more stupid heroics and almost getting yourself killed.” Hale’s hands clapped on his thighs and he pushed himself to standing. “Deal?” He asked, palm outstretched.

Natalie regarded him, the air tinged with frost, before slapping her hand in his and shaking it. A small bubble of embarrassment at remembering how she had handled her last battle burst in her brain, leaving a film of shame behind. She probably had no room to argue this point. “Deal.”

He yanked on her hand, snatching her close to his chest in a one armed hug before ruffling her hair. “Knew I could count on you. I need you to be ready to march as soon as the army arrives, so get moving.”

Natalie ducked out from under his arm, smoothing her hands over her head with a noise of disgust. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll be ready. Now get out. I’m incredibly busy and important, and you’re distracting me.”

Hale laughed, a real one this time, before heading to the door. “As you wish, m’lady.”

Her only answer was a choice hand gesture. The sound of his laughter echoed in the storeroom long after he left.

 

* * *

The sheer amount of work involved in wrangling the sisters into preparing for the coming siege left her no time for anything else. It was like herding cats. On top of normal day to day operations, they had to set aside supplemental supplies and pack them away for easy transport. Her brain was apparently too tired even to keep up her excursions into the Fade. She collapsed at the end of the day to snatch a few dark and dreamless hours only to wake again with a pounding head and gritty eyes. The feeling was not a stranger to her, but living through it without the benefit of coffee was a challenge.

Worse was the ache of loneliness and confusion she felt after not talking to a certain elf for the days she had been busy. She felt his absence like a hole in her heart, a gaping and mildly irritating hole. The thought of going to him, of bridging this distance created by duty and stress, weighed on her. But she held herself back, unsure of what he really felt. Unsure if she would be welcome, since he had not sought her out either. The few times they had come upon each other, the air had been tense. His mannerisms were terse and distant, distracted. A startling difference had emerged between the man she saw in the real world and the one she saw in the Fade.  _ Things have always been easier for me in the Fade.  _ His words were stark in her mind now. 

Whatever this was between them was turning her into a sap, and she didn’t like it. It had been many long years since she had felt like making moon eyes over some guy, and she didn’t intend to get back into the habit. Something was going to have to give sooner or later. Her own fear over where she would land when the shoe dropped stopped her from forcing the issue. 

It was on one such sandy-eyed morning that she found herself nursing a cup of steaming black tea atop one of the many overlooks within the Keep, the chill air of a desert morning cutting through the thin tunic she wore. The main gates had been thrown wide and soldiers streamed through the portcullis, long lines of green and brown against the relentlessly sandy landscape. The rattle and clank of weapons and armor mingled with the whiney of horses to create an ear splitting cacophony. Her mind felt somehow full of noise and blank at the same time. Maybe it was just exhaustion. 

The tall, blonde figure at gates was a familiar one. Cullen, Commander of the Inquisition’s army. Seeing his face here was like a dash of cold water. This battle was a real thing that was going to happen, and soon. Now that they had arrived at Griffon Wing Keep, she could count the hours until the bloodshed began. Again. It seemed to be never ending.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in.” The gruff voice shook her out of her thoughts.

She felt a grin split her face. “Varric.” He was a sight for sore eyes. She had not had much of a chance to talk to him since their trek to Skyhold, a fact for which she was feeling distinctly guilty now. 

“Bunny! Heard you had an exciting trip.” 

The sound that left her mouth could best be described as a snort. “Not really. I nearly get stabbed by living, rotting corpses all the time.”

“Nasty habit. You just might want to rethink that one.” He took a few steps forward, coming to rest beside her at the wall. Bianca’s polished stock shined over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She smiled, feeling her skin stretch over her muscles as she did so. The desert and lack of sleep had left her feeling dry and brittle. “I didn’t see you come in with the army.”

“That’s because I have amazing powers of stealth.” His grin got that much larger. “I slipped in quietly with the Seeker and Bulls’ Boys. We haven’t been here long.”

“The Chargers too? You guys are roping everyone into this fight.”

“Well, it’s a nasty one.”

Natalie only nodded, sipping gingerly from her steaming cup. She didn’t really have anything to add to that statement. He was right. It was nasty business.

The silence grew between them. It was unusual for him, he who spun grand tales from nothing and to whom everything seemed a great jest. But only seemed. Natalie had a sneaking suspicion that he used humor and sarcasm as armor. Maybe that is why they got on so well. “Heard tomorrow is the day, now that you all have finally graced us with your presence.” She broke the silence between drinks.

“So I’ve been told. Nothing like demons and bloodshed to make a day exciting.”

Her eyes twinkled over the edge of her teacup. “I, for one, am definitely looking forward to getting wrist deep in blood and gore. Really gets me going.”

“Oh, so it’s like that with you, huh? I’ll keep that in mind when I write the novel about this whole thing. ‘The healer bent over her patient, cheeks flushed, lips parted and quivering—‘“

Natalie burst into laughter, catching the attention of the soldiers below them. They looked up at the healer and the dwarf inquiringly, their brows scrunched. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “Varric.” She hissed after she regained some of her composure.

“You said it, not me.”

Pressing her lips together to suppress a smile, she had to tilt her head in assent. She had indeed been the one to make the first comment. “Seems you got me there.”

His face fell into a serious expression as he studied her. “I heard you had a little help from the other side.”

He had to be talking about the spirit. She did her best to smooth her face into an emotionless mask, wondering where he was going with this.  “I guess you could say that.”

His brow wrinkled between his eyes for a moment before he prodded further. “I… Just be careful, right? I have some… personal experience with that kind of thing.” He paused, his face troubled and his eyes unable to meet hers. “It didn’t end well.”

Natalie remembered the tale in his book,  _ The Tale of the Champion _ . Their companion had been a mage who had joined with a spirit with explosive results. “So that part of your book is true?”

“The book may be embellished for dramatic effect, but it’s all true. He…” A voice called his name and he cast a glance over his shoulder. “Just be careful, alright?”

“I will, Varric.”

As he hurried away toward an unfamiliar dark-haired woman, she couldn’t help but feel a storm surging in the pit of her stomach. Anxiety raked burning fingers across the back of her skull, making her limbs restless. Haven had been a surprise, there had been no time to prepare or feel nervous about it. The undead attack in Emprise du Lion had been much the same. A quick reaction, no forethought or time to worry. 

This was a whole other beast. This was deliberate preparation. This was time to think, to consider all the things that could go horribly wrong. Until now, it had felt surreal, like something that was not really going to happen. But now the army was here and ready to fight.

And tomorrow they would march. How many would make the march back?

The thought left a quiver in her muscles and ice in her veins. Ice that refused to thaw and stayed with her through the long day of packing, of barking orders, of loading wagons. It froze her stomach as she met with the mages and healers who had accompanied the army to discuss work assignments and arrangements for the front line triage. It hardened her fingers as she tried to turn the pages of a book, alone in the quiet of her room after the sun had been laid to rest. It stiffened her anxious body as she lay in bed, wakeful and restless even as the moon made it’s lazy path across the sky and her exhausted brain finally gave in to the dark oblivion of sleep.

 

* * *

As much as she had cursed Daisy in the days after they left Skyhold, walking was so much worse. Natalie squinted her eyes against the scalding desert sun, made all the more intense by its reflection off of the shifting, endless sands. Sunlight glinted off of the rows of shining helmets that stretched before her as far as she could see. A wagon laden with supplies creaked and groaned as it traveled behind them. She had been given the opportunity to ride within it, but had quickly given it over in favor of one of the older mage healers who had made the long journey from Skyhold only yesterday. A decision she was coming to regret, even though it had been the right one.  _ At least the walking is helping keep my mind off of what is coming. _

She had been roused from her bed at the crack of dawn, sore and bleary after a scant few hours of sleep, to the news that they were leaving in fifteen minutes ‘with or without her’. Those words had come directly from Hale, although repeated to her through a red faced young soldier who looked mortified to have to deliver them. She had thanked the young man before firmly shutting her door to hide her irritation. It took her less than ten to make an appearance in the courtyard, fully dressed and ready with her pack over her shoulder. Hale had caught her eye as she approached, winking at her. If they had been in less mixed company, she would have told him exactly what she thought of his message. 

Now hours later, worry and irritation had faded into a deep boredom. The monotony of the landscape and the endless march lulling her. Her scalp burned where her dark hair had attracted and held the heat to her skin. Her limbs felt like they didn’t belong to her body anymore and her mind had retreated deep into her head.  _ Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. _

A slight weight fell on her head and shoulders, startling her out of her meditative state. The pale green of a thin length of fabric draped over one of her eyes. She didn’t need her eyes to identify the warm weight of the hand on the small back and the smell of deep, primordial forest in her nose. Her heart called out to his, pulse racing, as she pushed the soft cloth from her face. 

As much as she wanted to grin and throw herself at him, she schooled her face into a careful mask of calm. He had neglected her for far too long, leaving her to wonder where she stood with him. Unacceptable. “Solas.”

“You should not walk bareheaded in this climate. It would be a shame to let the sun make you sick.” His voice was low, and came from far closer than she realized.

She peered up at him. His eyes pierced into her from a face as collected as always, shadowed beneath a deep hood. She envied him his calm. The weight of her fear and anxiety back full force now that she was paying attention again. 

Her turmoil must have been apparent on her face because his eyes narrowed. “Are you feeling well?”

Natalie swallowed hard, tapping down all those unwanted emotions. “I’m fine.”

For long moments, he said nothing. She turned her face forward, looking intently at the sandy dunes. 

His fingers shifted along her back, leaving her skin tingling beneath her clothes. His head bowed low, close to her ear. “It seems I have done something to anger you. Am I to know what I need to be apologizing for?”

Just like that, back to irritation. “I’m not angry. I’m terrified.”  _ Liar. _

A low noise rumbled from his throat. “All will be well, Natalie.”

She felt a tremor run through her insides at the feel of his breath against her ear.  _ Stupid sexy elf. _ “I’m sure it will be. Thank you for the reassurance.” She knew she was being childish, but her brain wouldn’t seem to allow her to act like a fully formed adult at the moment.

“I apologize that I have not been able to provide more of it in recent weeks. The Inquisitor has had me occupied researching the ritual the Grey Wardens are using and how we might be able to combat it.”

A heavy sigh escaped from her lips, taking with it a measure of her aggravation. Of course he had actual things to be doing. And if she was honest with herself, she had not made much of an effort on her end either. She still didn’t appreciate the total radio silence. “I understand. I’ve been busy too.”

“I know. I thought it best not to distract you from your duties.”

“Thank you for your consideration.” 

Perhaps sensing that he would get no more from her, he removed his hand from her and stepped away. She immediately missed its comforting warmth, even in the heat of the high sun. “I must return to the Inquisitor. Dareth Shiral, da’len.”

Natalie inclined her head in his direction. “Ma serannas for the scarf. My head is grateful.”

His lip quirked up at her, his eyes glittering, but he said no more to her. Gripping his tall, snake-headed staff in his hand, he adjusted the hood over his head and walked up the lines of soldiers with long strides. As perturbed as she was with him, she could not help but admire the figure he cut while walking away. Not for the first time, she was struck by the quality of the view. She cast her eyes skyward in a silent plea.  _ God save me from my own hormones. _

Long after his departure, she found her head occupied in turning his words over and over. Analyzing every syllable, every vocal intonation. Had he really been absent because he didn’t want to distract her? Or had he just simply not considered her until he saw that she was unhappy with him? She was having trouble reconciling the absent, seemingly uncaring Solas of recent days with the protective, attentive one she knew in their more private moments together. He was a mystery to her still, even after all these months. Her fingers itched to pull him apart and read all his pages, especially the ones he kept hidden away. The dark ones. The sad ones. The ones she saw brief flashes of in his eyes.

She still had not sorted out her muddled thoughts by the time the sun lowered to kiss the horizon and they called a halt. Having been so absorbed in her own thoughts, she was surprised to learn that the march was over. They had reached the spot where they would camp for the night, and from where they would launch their attack with the dawn.

All at once, she found herself swept along with the other healers. They had much to do this evening, and the soldiers were already unloading their packed wagon to set up the massive tent that would serve as a medical ward. She was startled by the sheer efficiency of the standing army. They worked as a solid unit, perfectly in sync as the drove stakes and hoisted poles until the tent was standing, it’s sunbleached canvas camouflaged against the sand. Lanterns were lit and hung from the ceiling poles, casting long shadows across the ground. 

The sun sank fully below the horizon, the sky bleeding fully into darkness, as the healers unpacked their supplies and readied their infirmary. Cots were assembled, herbs were sorted into easy to access piles, gleaming instruments lay set out ready for use along a collapsible wooden table. Baskets of clean linens, bandages, and towels sat in a row like fat, little guardsmen along the wall. 

The swarm of mage robes and Chantry uniforms thinned as the healers slowly dispersed to head to their tents. Before long, Natalie was one of the last. She fiddled with the metal knives and needles, her hands full of nervous energy. Despite her poor nights sleep the previous night and the long march, she was wide awake. Insomnia was a normal affliction for her, especially the night before something was happening. The anticipation would keep her up all night.

“You’re still here?” 

She jumped at Varric’s gruff voice behind her and whirled to face him. “Jeez, you scared me.”

“Jumpy little Bunny.” He chuckled. “You done for the night?”

Natalie shrugged, her heart still beating hard in her chest. “Yeah, as done as I can be.”

“Great!” Varric seized her wrist and pulled her toward the open tent flaps. “We’re having some ‘We all may die tomorrow’ drinks and you’re invited.”

“Varric! Hold on!” She dug her heels into the sand and pulled against him. “I need to go and sleep, not get drunk.”

“Of course you need to get drunk! How else do you think you’re going to calm down enough to sleep?” He cast her a knowing glance, 

The dwarf had a point. “Alright.  _ One _ drink.”

A bark of laughter answered her. “Sure, Bunny. One drink.”

He regaled her with stories of drunken nights at the Hanged Man in Kirkwall on their way to a campfire. She could hear the group before she could clearly see them in the darkness. Bull’s booming laugh laced over the top of Krem’s higher pitched one. Dorian’s cultured voice telling some kind of story that she couldn’t quite hear from this distance. An unfamiliar female voice, the same one she had heard calling Varric’s name the previous day. A chorus of laughter she assumed must be the other Chargers. It seemed they had a regular party going. 

A cheer went up when she and Varric entered the circle of firelight. One of the Chargers clapped her on the back and thrust a mug of something sharp and foaming into her hands, tipping the bottom of the cup upward until she took a mouthful. The ale spilled over her tongue, bitter hops setting her tastebuds to work. It was too much to ask that the drinks be cold in this heat, but they made up in strength what they lacked in temperature. 

She nearly choked at the pace the hand on the bottom of the glass was setting.  _ Thank god for all those beer bongs I did in college.  _ Finally, the mug was released and she took a breath. The group around the fire laughed at what must have been a fairly comical expression on her face. She found herself laughing along with them, the muscles that had been tense in her shoulders for the past several days loosening just slightly.

Her head swirled with lingering anxiety and strong drink as she was introduced to those she didn’t know around the fire. The unfamiliar woman, as it turned out, was the one and only Marion Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and central character of many of Varric’s stories. Natalie shook her hand enthusiastically, feeling strangely starstruck. 

Natalie collapsed into the sand with her mug clasped between her palms. Around her, the group continued their boisterous conversation. Hawke and Varric regaled the rest with tales of their escapades in Kirkwall. Bull and the Chargers laughed over the memory of a mission to guard a duchess from the overly amorous advances of her piglike cousin. Dorian shared a story or two of Magisters making fools of themselves back home in Minrathous. She couldn’t help but feel sad at the thought that this may be the last time she heard any of them tell a story. Her place was behind the front lines tomorrow, but theirs was on it. All of them were charging headlong into danger, and they seemed so calm about it. Nothing in them betrayed the kind of turmoil that had lived in her mind for days.

She couldn’t imagine living the years of a life that left you so casual about mortal danger, violence, and bloodshed. Then again, her life in Chicago had left her a jaded bystander to it, so maybe she could imagine it.

Before she knew it, she was three mugs in and hanging on Krem’s shoulder, chuckling over a loud story Varric was telling. 

“And so Isabela looks at Aveline, who is positively steaming over the insinuation that her husband is visiting the whores at the Rose, and says ‘Aveline. If you shove your thumb up his ass, I win.’” Varric and Hawke fell against each other, howling, as the rest of them laughed.

Even through the laughter and her increasingly drunken haze, she could feel the hole left by her two elven men. Hale had not made an appearance tonight, not that she was surprised. Likely, he was holed up in some kind of tactical planning with Rylen and Cullen. She did not know the Commander well, or really at all, but she got the impression that he was not a man who liked to leave much to chance. Solas’ absence was a stronger sting, but an even less surprising one. He liked to excuse himself from as many group activities as he could, and she didn’t think he would be caught dead drinking around a campfire with a bunch of mercenaries. 

She giggled at that thought. _ I’m drinking around a campfire with a bunch of mercenaries.  _ What a strange world she now lived in.

Her fourth mug left her feeling bold and restless, a deep ache settling inside her. There had been too many things left unsaid this afternoon, and she needed to clear the air. She needed to see him.

Throwing caution to the wind, she turned to Krem and caught the warrior’s attention. “Krem. Do you know where Solas’ tent is?”

Krem eyed her with a knowing look. “Yeah. Why’d you want to know?” His voice was light, teasing.

She felt a blush creep across her cheeks. “I need to ask him something.”

“Late at night? Alone in his tent?” Krem’s white teeth sparkled in the light as he grinned at her.

“Shut up.” She dig her elbow into his side. “It’s important. It can’t wait.”

“A’right. Straight back.” He leaned back to point his arm behind him, away from the light and warmth of the fire. “On the left, fourth one down.”

Natalie hastily smacked a wet kiss on Krem’s cheek as she rose. “Thanks, dollface.” 

Her legs wobbled beneath her as she set off away from the group, barely registering the sound of her name being called after her. Krem’s voice filtered in, followed by a series of catcalls. Natalie’s arms flew up and gave the whole lot of them a double dose of her middle fingers without even looking. She wasn’t going to let a little thing like half the people she knew knowing she was running off to crawl into a man’s bed interrupt her mission. Because, make no mistake, she was definitely on a mission.

The canvas was rough under her fingers as she scratched at the flap of the tent Krem had directed her to. “Solas.” She called, trying to keep her voice low.

No answer. So she tried again. “ _ Solas _ .” Her voice raised a bit, a tiny giggle twisting the final consonant.

Still nothing. 

She had no concept of how late it was, but it was late. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe she should go back to her own tent.  _ Where is my tent? _ It was then that she realized that she had no idea where her things had been taken after they arrived. All her time had been spent helping set up the medical tent, so she had not located her own.  _ Fuck. _

In light of the recent development, she deemed it prudent to try one more time. She scratched her nails on the rough canvas and called his name once more, a little louder than the last time. “Solasss.”

Silence. 

_ Dammit. _

Her shoulders sunk several inches as she sighed, her earlier bravado gone. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she prepared herself to go back and badger someone still awake who could help her figure out where she was supposed to sleep. 

“Natalie?” A groggy voice came from behind her. 

She spun to find Solas standing in the open flap of a tent on the opposite side, definitely not the fourth one back on the left.  _ I’m going to kill Krem. _ Snatching her hands away from the stranger’s tent, she sent up a silent thanks to whatever higher power had ensured that the person inside said tent had not woken up. Natalie gathered what was left of her pride and swaggered over to him. 

“Natalie, what are you doing out here so late?” He asked, his voice husky with sleep. The sound never failed to cause a throbbing ache between her legs. She had never pegged herself for someone with a voice kink, but she could listen to that man read the phone book and it would still leave her hot and bothered.

It was that moment that her alcohol-soaked brain chose to realize that he stood there completely shirtless, in only his leggings. Her mouth went dry and her traitorous brain completely blank.  _ Sweet baby jesus. _ The sight of his bare flesh was just as mind-numbing this time as it had been the first and she had the ridiculous urge to lean over and lick him.  _ Whoa, down girl. _

“I… I was looking for you. I’m sorry if I woke you. Can I come in?” The words tumbled from her lips in a rush before she could stop them. 

His sharp eyes took in her face, which she was sure was flushed with alcohol and embarrassment, before nodding and stepping aside to let her in. 

The interior of his tent was dark, but she could tell it was tidy as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior after the bright moonlight outside. The cot creaked as he sat on the edge of it, his chin resting against his hands. 

“So what burning question has left your mind so troubled that you had to come see me right now, so late at night?”

Natalie wet her lips as she considered what she should tell him. It felt odd towering over him in the small space, so she lowered herself to the oiled cloth floor with her legs tucked beneath her. “I…” The sound of his mind working as she waited to hear what she had to say was deafening, but he waited patiently. “I lied to you earlier.”

“Oh?” 

She could feel his eyes on her. Her skin burned beneath his gaze, her breasts growing heavy and aching. “Yes.” The answer was breathy, quiet. Feeling a new rush of courage, she eased forward to inch toward him. Her hands reached out, feeling the woven cloth of his tight leggings beneath her palms. And the lean muscle of his thighs beneath the cloth. The burning sensation spread across her chest, constricting her breaths. “I was angry with you.”

His thigh muscles clenched beneath her hands as he shifted, leaning back to get a better look at her face. “I know.”

Sliding her hands up slowly, painfully slowly, she looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t like it when you ignore me.” Her breathing was shallow, almost panting. He felt so good in her hands. His warmth radiated up her arms, turning them languid. “I don’t like it at all.”

His breath caught has her questing fingers reached the tops of his thighs, resting against the place where cloth and skin met. Teasing, feeling the ridges of the muscles there. “It is impossible to ignore you. I would be aware of you from a thousand leagues away.”

“Is that right?” She lifted her bottom from where it rested on her feet and raised herself to meet him, her waist firmly planted between his knees. Her hands worried at the band of his pants, delving just below it to feel the smooth skin beneath. “Then why haven’t I seen you in two weeks?”

In the dim moonlight that filtered through the canvas, she could barely see the redness in his cheeks as she pinned him with her eyes. 

“I—“ He began before clamping his mouth shut. She heard his deep inhale before continuing. “I told you the reason when we spoke earlier today. It is not my intention to become a distraction so that you are unable to fulfill your duties to the Inquisition.”

Her answering chuckle was dark and she shocked even herself with the sound. “You drive me to distraction anyway, so you may as well talk to me.” 

The ridges of his abdominals caught at her skin as her hands slid upwards. Warm skin and his familiar dark, mysterious scent made her head swim. Letting her breasts drag along her legs, she leaned over him to give in to her earlier impulse to lick him. The skin of his chest was salty and musky as her tongue and lips left feather light kisses along his stomach and up to his chest, his muscles jumping beneath her ministrations. One leg left the floor to settle outside his spread thigh and then the other, until she was straddling him. Her tongue trailed up his throat, feeling him shudder beneath her. 

With a groan, his hands left their clenched position on the bed to hold her fast against him, one firm against her ass and the other tangled in what was left of her long braid. His mouth crashed onto hers, a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. Her head swam with him and only him. A dark and violent need to give herself over to him and to claim him in return filled her chest, rumbling from her throat as a deep growl. She felt feral, she arms clasping and nails digging as she clutched him to her chest. She wanted to sink her claws into him, to draw blood, to leave her mark on his skin. A hard ridge lay firm between her legs as she gripped him with her thighs, grinding herself against him as his mouth stripped her bare. 

A wave of pleasure rolled down her spine as hands delved beneath her tunic, his fingers leaving sinful promises on her heated skin. Her back arched as he palmed her breast. A moan ripped from her throat as he rolled her nipple between his fingertips. She needed to touch him, to be closer. There were still too many clothes. Capturing his mouth once more in a hungry kiss, her hand delved to where their bodies met and cupped the long hard length of him.  _ Jackpot. _

He drew in a shuddering breath as he tore his mouth from hers and captured her wayward hand in his to still it. “Natalie, we cannot. You are not yourself tonight.” 

She stared at him dumbly, waiting for the haze of sex and alcohol to leave her brain so she could process what he was saying. “I’m not drunk.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Are you not?”

“No.” She snapped, her tongue thick in her mouth. “And besides, even if I were I would still want you to fuck me.”

A dark expression clouded his eyes and for a moment, she glimpsed the sad, broken man behind his arrogant mask. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in to nuzzle his face against hers. “Ah, fenorain, you have no idea.”

A stir of anger, fed by the humiliation of another rejection, fluttered in her chest. “Then tell me why.” She pleaded. 

Solas released a long breath, his body leaning into hers. They sat there silently for long minutes, entwined in body and breath. Clinging. Feeling. “I wish I could.” His breath kissed her ears as he spoke the impossibly soft words, a world of pain coloring his voice.

Natalie pulled away so she could look at him, but he would not meet her eye. “Look at me.” His blue eyes met hers, full of cracks and missing pieces. “I see you, Solas.”

He shook his head sadly. “You do not know how much I would love for that to be true.”

A shadow fell across her heart as he embraced her, his arms drawing her to lay against his chest as he reclined on the cot. She fell against him, her curves fitting into all his hollows, and tucked her head beneath his chin. Warmth spread into her limbs, relaxing her piece by piece. She melted and blurred, drowsiness creeping foggy fingers into her mind. His heartbeat pounded strong and steady beneath her fingers as she drifted away. 


	24. Swallowed in the Sea

The blankets beside her were cold when she awoke the next morning to the first rays of dawn filtering through the tent. A chill had settled into her bones courtesy of the cold air of the desert night. Natalie reached out, her fingers finding the space where Solas had lain hours before. Bed empty and cold, she felt  the absence of him in her soul. 

Excessive drink the night before had left her with the gift of a splitting headache, cotton in her mouth, and, unfortunately , clear memories of throwing herself at him. She had laid herself bare before him and begged him for the same, but he had refused. The coward. Another rejection to add to her growing list.  What was left of her pride demanded that she remove herself from his tent, but the pathetic part she  normally  tried to bury deep down whispered at her to stay, to soak up what remained of him beside her.

Pathetic Natalie proved the victor. Her bruised and petulant heart not willing to listen to the cold logic of self-preservation.

She burrowed deep into the blankets, her face nuzzling the woolen fabric as she stretched her limbs in languorous bliss. Her heart and mind were full of the memory of him, of the soft sadness in his eyes as he held her in the darkness. Even if he would not let her in to smooth his jagged edges, she would enjoy the small intimacy of sleeping in his bed while she could.

_ Pathetic _ _ indeed _ _. Have  _ _ some  _ _ dignity, woman _ .

Darkness  began to bleed into the edges of her thoughts, eyes fluttering closed as she let herself drift away. A few more minutes of sleep sounded so good. Maybe if she never woke up, she would never have to leave.

Fluttering strokes spreading tingles across her skin woke her slowly , dreams reluctant to lose their hold on her. Warm fingers skimming her cheek, combing through the tangled curls around her face, brought her back into the conscious world. Groaning, Natalie snuggled her cheek against the gentle touch. 

A low chuckle rumbled through the cozy solitude of the tent as the hand held her cheek in its palm, long fingers spreading across her skin and into her hair. “Natalie, it is time to wake.”

She hummed in contentment, deep in her throat. “Only if you promise to keep doing that.”

The cot shifted, creaking under his weight, and a shadow fell across her face. Warm breath spread across her forehead as lips pressed a soft kiss on her brow. “The thought of whiling the day away with your skin under my fingers is a tempting proposition, but we have other commitments.”

His words sent a spike of hot desire through her like a lightning bolt. She opened her eyes, taking in the sight of his face so close to hers. The broken sadness so obvious in the dark hours was missing from his eyes this morning, replaced by a hazy warmth that made her heart skip a beat in her breast.“That’s a shame, because I would  happily  lay here and let you pet me.”  _ So much for learning a lesson from last night. _

His eyes darted to her lips, their blue depths hot and lingering before skittering away. “Perhaps after the battle, we can explore that further.” Fingers tightened against her cheek before they fell to the bed, leaving her skin feeling  strangely  cold and bereft. “I brought your belongings and something for you to eat. We are due to march to Adamant within the hour, so  you should  hurry.”

Natalie struggled into a sitting position, looking around the tent now that the light had brightened the interior to a manageable level. Sure enough, her small pack sat at his feet and a bowl  of some kind  of porridge lay cradled in his free hand. “How did you get my pack?”

Solas averted his eyes, a suspicious pink tinge gracing his cheekbones. “The Inquisitor put it in my keeping.  It seems that you never went to claim a place for yourself yesterday, so  your things were left in the medical tent. When he could not locate you this morning, he sought me out.”

She smiled  inwardly  at his obvious discomfort. It was yet another new side of him she had not seen before, and it was  utterly  adorable. Normally , she was the one that had that  particular  market cornered. “What’s wrong? Embarrassed that your boss knows you had a girl in your tent?”

Solas pressed his lips together and looked sidelong at her with a dangerous glint in his eye. “My life has been far too long to feel shame about people assuming I passed the evening with a beautiful woman, regardless of their station.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest and spread. _Beautiful. There’s that word again._ She had the sudden urge to crawl into his lap and curl up like a cat. To let him stroke her while she purred and rubbed against him begging for more. But she wouldn’t, because she did have some dignity. Didn’t she? It must be true, because she stayed where she was.

She couldn’t keep the smile from splitting her face as she stared into his eyes, her body gravitating toward him until her shoulder brushed his. “You think I’m beautiful?”

His face was impassive as he drew near hers, so close that his breath whispered along her cheek. “I think you  are well aware that you are lovely .”

Solas pressed a soft kiss against her lips and a legion of butterflies took flight in her belly. She tried to lean nearer, but he drew away with his mouth curved into a gentle smile and sweet promises in his eyes. “I will give you your privacy so you can ready yourself.”

Natalie’s heart thrummed in her chest as he left the tent, setting the bowl on the floor as he went. As soon as he was out of sight, she flopped hard onto her back on the cot. Pressure built up inside her like a boiling kettle, growing and growing until it burst out of her with a squeal and a flurry of giggles. What the hell was this man doing to her? Her eye pressed closed, trying to calm the spinning of her head as she thought about the turn he had taken between last night and this morning. He had  obviously  had time to mull over his considerations. Last night had ended with melancholy, but the dawn had brought hope. Her heart felt seventeen again, pink and ripe with the first blush of young love. 

Her eyes snapped open.  _ Love? That’s crazy. _ She shook off the idea, sure in her head that her heart had  merely  gotten carried away. It would be helpful if the two of them were more often on the same page.

Heaving her body off the bed, she made short work of swapping her clothing for fresh ones from her bags and tying her hair back with a length of ribbon before she set off, bowl in hand. The camp bustled with activity as she strode between the neat lines of tents, eating hasty bites of porridge as she walked. Her feet moved with restless energy as she backtracked to the campfire they had gathered around the night before. Varric had brought her this way in the dark, so that must mean the med tent was…. which way? 

_ Huh _ . She chewed her lip, peering around for something to tell her which direction to head in. _ Eh. I’ll find it _ _ eventually _ _. _ Picking what seemed to be the likely route, she bounded off with a spring in her step. 

A wiry arm fell around her shoulders. Natalie felt her whole body jerk in surprise, the bowl slipping from her fingers and  nearly  tumbling to the ground. “My, my, my. Someone looks perky today.”

“Dammit, Hale! You almost cost me my breakfast.” Natalie steadied the bowl, licking a stray drop from her fingers. 

“Oh, that would be a shame. I’m sure you need your strength after last night.” He chuckled.

Natalie compressed her lips and shot him a withering glance. “Would you  just  say what you’re getting at instead of talking in innuendos?”

“Oh, but where is the fun in that?” 

Rolling her eyes, she hooked her arm around his lower back. “Don’t you have better things to do than pry in my personal life this morning?”

“I’m sure I do.” He grinned at her. “But I wanted to check in with you after I heard the outlandish rumor  that  you stumbled  drunkenly  off to a certain person’s tent last night.”

She shook her head and swore  softly  under her breath. “You all  really  are the worst gossips. I ’m going to kill Varric.”

His laughter was bright and loud. “So it’s true then? That’s brilliant.” 

“Oh, shut up.” She shoved at him in mock irritation.

At that, he was silent. They walked quietly , arms still clasped around one another. The air in the camp had a  distinctly  somber feel. People hurried  to and fro . Soldiers stood in neat lines, groups of them hefting huge ladders onto armored shoulders. Her stomach buzzed as she watched them. She couldn’t shake the sense of unreality that permeated her mood, like she was watching a movie rather than standing on an honest to goodness battlefield. 

“This is  really  happening, isn’t it?” She whispered, her voice  barely  carrying over the din.

Hale’s face fell, his mouth settling into a line and a deep wrinkle creasing the space between his eyebrows. “It is.”

“Promise me you won’t die, okay?” Her knuckles shown white around the edges of her wooden bowl as she clasped it to her stomach. 

Hale squeezed her shoulder, his gentle pressure reassuring, but kept his eyes trained forward. “I will do my best. Remember my rule about stupid heroics and keep yourself alive too.”

Natalie’s head bobbed, her throat too thick to  formulate a response.

Their feet landed them in front of a familiar huge tent. The hand on her shoulder slipped away as he stepped back. His eyes slid over her shoulder for a  brief  moment, his mouth cracking into a knowing smile, before he focused on her. “Sule tael tasalal, Natalie. Until we meet again.”

“Good luck, Inquisitor.”

He grinned at her before turning on his heel to walk away. “And it was Dorian!” He called over his shoulder with a wave. “I would hate for you to kill the wrong person!”

A quick huff of laughter left her throat as she watched him walk away. Natalie couldn’t help but wonder who Hale had been before all this. His spirit was so bright, his mind so sharp, even with the pressure of the position  he had been forced into. She felt like his parents had  probably  had a demon of a child to contend with in his childhood.

Soft footsteps padded up behind her. “I did not want to leave without saying farewell. A certain lady made it very clear  to me  last night  that  she does not appreciate it when I fail to pay her attention.”

The damn butterflies were back, creating havoc in her belly. She felt her cheeks heat as she cast a hesitant glance over her shoulder. “I am glad  a certain lady’s point was taken .”

In a  brief  moment, he closed the distance between them and plucked the bowl from her fingers, setting it  neatly  atop the abandoned supply crates that had  been stacked outside the clinic. His long fingers closed over her wrist, pulling her to him. And she went. Not because he called, but because her heart would allow for nothing else. Their bodies met, coming together as the sea meets the shore. Two beings existing  separately  but forever bound to  be carried back to the other. Infinite and inevitable. Lips brushed in feather-light strokes, gone almost before they could arrive. 

“ Be safe .” She breathed.

“I will try.” He answered.

Foreheads met in silent communication as he leaned his tall form over her shorter one, powerful and sheltering. The embrace stretched on for endless moments as they shared breath and heartbeat.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” His voice was soft, almost unintelligible. Like he was sharing a deep secret he didn’t really mean for her to hear. 

“What does that mean?”

“I will tell you when I return.” At last, he broke away. With a crooked smile, he raised her hand to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back. “I must go. They are  surely  ready to depart.”

“Dar’eth shiral, Solas.”

“Tas dar’eth, Natalie.”

She watched him go with a lump in her throat. His tall figure moved through the tents,  gradually  becoming smaller and smaller. He would be back. He had to.

The camp fell quiet as it emptied of its many bodies, the long lines of the army disappearing around the tall rocks that shielded their location from the battlefield. Even the healers who had remained behind to man the second line of medical care were quiet, the nervous energy buzzing around the room. The battle was far enough away  that  they could not see it, so they sat  in anticipation of the wounded. Because  there would be wounded . It was the brutal reality of war that there would be casualties.

Natalie paced outside, unable to contain her own anxiety. It grew into a heavy lump in her stomach,  quickly  churning into a storm. What was happening? Had it started? She worried at her nails with her teeth as she paced, her eyes darting to the place where they had disappeared and watching as if the empty landscape would tell her.

There was no telling how much time had passed as they waited, the air growing heavier with each moment that ticked by. It was painful, the waiting. It stretched each minute into ten. The silence was deafening.

A great muffled wave of yelling voices filtered over the sand, breaking the still air. The clash of metal on metal, the inhuman screeches of rage. The group of healers stiffened as one, their faces pale. Natalie stomach clenched, dread making her limbs heavy. Cold sweat beaded her brow. 

_ So it begins. _

It did not take long for the first of the figures to appear on the horizon, one dragging the other. They made slow progress, limping along until the remaining guardsman rushed to help them. They carried the bloodied soldier into the medical tent, his leg laid bare to the bone in massive, jagged tears. Something in her brain flipped, all at once losing the jumbled static of fear and turning to the comfort of confidence in her ability to solve a problem. This problem.

Springing into action, she called to one of the Chantry sisters, directing for them to cleanse the wound and ready it for healing. They had three remaining mage healers, including herself. The rest had accompanied the army to the front line to stabilize who they could to make the short journey back to the main camp. They would have to switch off, prioritizing the worst cases and leaving the rest to traditional healing  in order  to preserve their strength. Natalie had no desire to face another scathing reprimand from Solas. She  _ would  _ do this. She  _ would  _ prove her capabilities.

If the first soldier was the cork, it had been well and  truly  popped. A steady stream of pained, bloodied faces  began to trickle in. Gaping slashes, stab wounds, burns from both electricity and fire, missing limbs, broken bones. The gamut was wide and made her blood run cold. If these were the ones that made it back, she could only imagine what the ones  who were  unable to  be moved looked like.

If she thought a full moon in the ER was the worst she would ever see, she was  sorely  mistaken.

She worked her way through the patients, assessing and delegating them out for treatment.  Deep wounds were healed just enough to minimize risk before being stitched and bandaged. Soon, their beds were overflowing and a sea of groaning bodies lay on bedrolls outside, only the most serious allowed inside the tent. It was less than ideal with the heat and the blowing sand, but there seemed no other choice. There were  simply  more wounded than beds, and triage was all about priorities.

Natalie had joked with Varric about being wrist deep, but now she found that humor a little too on the nose for her taste. Her arms and clothing  quickly fell victim to her work. Nimble fingers wielded needle and thread with dexterity as she knitted flesh together the old fashioned way, using a tiny stream of magic to help ease the pain. Knotting the final suture, she clipped the threads and stepped away to allow one of the Sisters to medicate and bandage the wound. She had long ago lost track of how many people she had seen, or how long it had been.

Water ran red as she washed the blood from her hands, cringing at the thought of bloodborne pathogens. How she missed sterile latex gloves. They made this whole process so much easier and safer. She scrubbed just a little bit harder. A futile effort, considering she would just going to get coated to her elbows again.

Water splashed her front as a deafening roar split the air, shaking the tent and the furnishing within. For just a moment, the sun went dark.

“Dragon!”

“Archdemon!”

Panicked screams sounded around her as those well enough to move scattered, taking shelter. As if a cot or a canvas tent was much protection against something the size of a house. Natalie’s feet skidded in the sand as she dashed outside. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the huge black shape soar through the air,  directly  toward the battle. The scurrying life forms on the ground were  obviously  not its intended target. Another horrendous roar cut through her, turning her knees to water. A sudden terrifying flashback of  the burning of Haven flared behind her eyes.

_ Oh my god. _ She ran a shaking hand through the curls that had escaped to stick in the sweat lining her face.  _ Calm. You  _ _ are calm _ _. You are in control. _ She took a fortifying breath, steeling herself to keep going. There was a job to  be done .

What seemed like hours passed in a blur of tears and bloodshed, screams of pain and anguish. The injured and dying continued to pile in. Did that mean they were losing? There were so many. With a heavy heart, she watched a young soldier take her last breath. The girl’s face was pale and contorted in pain. And young. So young, not  more than nineteen or twenty. The damage done to her body by claw and teeth was  simply  too much to  be healed . After Rylen, she now knew better than to try. She wouldn’t fool herself into thinking  that  she would have otherworldly help a second time. Natalie felt a pang of regret. Even with something like magic to help, she still couldn’t save everyone.

She drew the sheet up over the girl’s now blank face and prepared herself to turn to the next bed.

“—a Rift. They’re just... gone.”

Whispers caught her attention.

“The Inquisitor, Seeker Pentaghast—”

Her brain went blank. Hale. Gone? What did they mean?

Two young men stood just beyond the flaps of the tent, both  seemingly  hale but splattered with blood. Two of the runners, there to help people from the field for medical attention.

“—Yeah, I heard it was the Champion of Kirkwall too.”

“What did you say?” She tried hard not to let her voice shake as she interrupted them. “Who  is gone ?”

Two pairs of wide eyes met her face, scared and bloodshot. Their mouths hung open and she felt a sting of annoyance. Why weren’t they talking?

“I need you to tell me what is going on.” The first frantic tendrils of fear sank insidious fingers into her brain. “Now!”

“Well, the dragon—”

“—and the Inquisitor.”

“It attacked and—”

“--there was this huge Rift.”

“Stop!” Her hands reached out to clamp over both their mouths. “ Slowly , and one at a time.” Once she  was satisfied that they understood her, she took a step back.

“The Inquisitor. He was up on the battlements. They said he had cornered the Venatori magister and was about to put an end to the battle, but the dragon attacked!”

Natalie’s blood turned to ice water as she listened to them speak.  _ Hale… _

“Yeah, and then the stone  started to crumble and the edge of the walls collapsed. It was too late for them to get to safety, and the whole party went over the edge. Right as they went over, a huge Rift opened in the ground.  They …” His eyes darted to his companion. “ They fell in and the Rift closed.  They are gone .”

Her mind blanked.  _ They. The whole party. Solas... _ “They.” Her voice escaped her throat in a strangled gasp. “Who is they?”

The two soldiers shared a long look, their faces nervous. “The Inquisitor, Seeker Pentaghast, Master Pavus--”

Something snapped inside her. White hot fury gripped her brain as her hands wound into the loose cloth at the neck of his uniform. Her fingers trembled with the  force of it . She yanked his face down to hers. “Quit fucking around and tell me! What about--” her voice cracked as she tried to force the words from her throat. “--Solas, the elven apostate?”

Wide blue eyes bored into hers as his head bobbed up and down. “Y-yes.”

And there was silence. The blissful absence of the pained cries that had filled her ears all day. But no, not quite. Ringing started in her brain. A droning bell that swelled, filling her mind with endless noise until it burst into an explosion and the sounds around her returned. 

“--you okay?” 

Faces swam in her vision, blurring and blending. She paid no attention.

It was not her. These hands were not hers. This body. This face. It belonged to someone else. Someone who stumbled with stiff lurching steps toward the shelter of the tent. Someone who surveyed the blood and gore with detached calm.  Surely  that was not her. 

She was cold, this strange person who had taken up inside her skin. She completed each movement with robotic precision.  Simply following the programming until each algorithm ran its course. Strings of numbers and functions determining the angle of her hand, the pressure of a touch, the depth of every stitch.  She was automated , an assembly line. 

Clean. 

Rinse. 

Stitch. 

Wrap. 

Clean. 

Rinse. 

Stitch. 

Wrap. 

An endless loop.

Until  it was done . There was no more work. 

Program  terminated . 

return(0);

The stranger took her leave as the flaps of the tent swung shut, her circuits powered down within the quiet confines of canvas walls. It left only Natalie. Natalie and the tightness in her chest as she absorbed the cold stillness that had taken over  in the absence of the person who should be here to warm her. A trembling breath struggled past the knot in her throat, the muscles in her lungs forgetting how to expand and contract. The air wheezed through the exhale, choking out. More sob than breath. 

Slowly , she peeled her soiled clothing from her body. Removing the last physical evidence of a trying day. Each garment inched away to reveal clean skin. Smooth, pale skin  shockingly  free of the bruises she could feel from the inside. She felt weak, battered. It seemed like every inch of her should be painted purple and black by the blood bursting underneath.

The pile of bloodied cloth and soiled leather grew until she stood in nothing but that skin. Only then did she let the tears come. They traced down her cheek, falling  softly  against her chest, growing  slowly  from a trickle to a torrent. She sank to her knees, not caring about the harsh scrape of the oiled cloth on her bare skin.  It was more than crying.  It was a heart breaking in shuddering waves.  It was the pain of losing something new and precious. Something unsaid and unacknowledged and now forever stolen away. 

She was not silent anymore and the ragged gasping of her sobs filled the space with grief. She let them come until there was nothing left, only the hollow pit of emptiness within. Dimly , she  became aware of the goosebumps along her skin, of the chill in the air. Her fingers found his pack instead of hers, the soft weight of a familiar cloth, before her body collapsed into the bed. 

So she slept. Comforted by his shirt wrapped around her. Surrounded by the familiar smell of him. By the hazy memories of sleepy morning wakings and heated kisses in the dark. 

And she dreamed terrible nightmares of twisted monsters and howling wolves.


	25. Like Real People Do

Natalie couldn’t help but think how strange it was that eyes could be both dry and leaking at the same time. The raw grittiness that coated her eyes rubbed and pulled, making it that much harder to force them open. She had no idea what time it was, but the oppressive heat in the tent told her it was not early. There was no desire to try and escape the stuffiness. Her body felt heavy and weary, requiring more effort than she could muster to even raise her arm to wipe the moisture clinging to her cheeks.

There was a hollowness in her chest at the thought that it was over. When her dad died, he had been ill for a long time. The wait had been gut-wrenching but had left her plenty of time for goodbyes, to savor those last months with him. To say all the things that needed saying while she still could. He had lingered and wasted away, slipping softly into death once it had become a mercy instead of a tragedy.

But this. The sudden absence of someone. No goodbyes. No funerals. No closure. It was the sharp shock of a knife to the gut.  _ Solas. Hale.  _ Someone had come by and cut away her friend and her love in one fell swoop.

Her love. She could admit that to herself now. She loved him with certainty and fierce strength, as deep as an ocean and as wide as the stars. As natural and unstoppable as breathing. It was a shame that she had waited until it was too late to figure it out, a regret she would carry in her heart until the end of time. Her arrogant love, with his sharp intelligence and secretive smiles, deserved someone to love him. And so she would.

If he were here, she was certain he would disapprove of this wallowing.

With considerable force, she heaved herself up and into a sitting position. It was only one movement but, already, she felt drained. But she would get up. She would get dressed. She would go to work. 

Natalie dressed carefully, pulling on leather breeches and a soft, blue tunic. A pair of boots. Fastened her belt. Tied her long curls into a neat braid that swung down her back. Each motion efficient and mechanical. Donning the coverings that would make it seem like any other day when her heart was still whole. 

_ Stiff upper lip, kid _ .

Her feet floated through the tents. Streams of people with blurry faces brushed past her, heedless in their hurry to be about their tasks. The smell of meat stew wafted on a faint breeze. She supposed she should eat something. How long had it been? The porridge. It seemed so long ago. She thought of the steaming bowl clutched in long, fingers with their dusting of freckles and her throat swelled. The world wavered just a little around her as she sniffed, clenching her jaw tight.

She had just taken a seat with an unappealing bowl of lunch when a flash of red caught her eyes. Her head turned and her vision was fill of a broad chest filled with a mat of thick hair. The bowl dropped from her liquid fingers.

“Varric.” She whispered, her wide eyes traveling up to his face. “Varric!” Her voice must have risen an entire octave as she bounded up to throw her arms around him. 

“Bunny.” His voice was softer than she had ever heard it as he patted her on the back. 

“They told me you were all dead.” Rearing back, she took in his square face, hardly believing he was real. “They told me the ‘whole party’ went into the Rift.” If he was here… she couldn’t help the flutter of hope that flared to life in her chest.

“Ah, well, not all of us. Bull is around here somewhere, too.” 

She kept waiting for him to continue, but he was silent. His face was lined and weary, reflecting the same emotions she held within. “What happened?”

“You know how it goes. One minute you’re trying not to get eaten by an Archdemon and the next you’re watching all your companions fall off a cliff into a Rift in the ground. Just another day.” He deflected her question, the smile on his lips not reaching his eyes.

Even though she had heard the news the previous day, her stomach twisted to hear Varric confirm it. There was a certain cold finality to it. “I’m so sorry, Varric.”

One shoulder lifted in a careless shrug as he bent to retrieve her fallen lunch. “Such is life. I had to get out of that keep. The place is  _ evil _ .”

“I don’t blame you. I…” She shut her mouth, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say. “I saw the result of what happened up there in triage.”

“Not pretty, I bet.” His chest rose as he inhaled and let out a deep sigh. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some difficult letters to write.”

Varric ambled away from her, his shoulders drooping and his steps heavy in the shifting sand. She watched him go with a heavy heart. If his book was anything to go by, he and Hawke had been very close. Varric had lost his best friend yesterday too, one that he had for more of a history with than she did with Hale… or Solas, for that matter. If she thought there was something that she could do to ease his pain, she would.

Giving up on the idea of replacing her unwanted meal, she made her way to the medical tent. The scene inside was not as chaotic as yesterday, but it was as busy. The healers and mages scrambled to attend to the legion of patients under their care. Natalie felt a twinge of guilt for sleeping so long when she was so clearly needed. She rolled up her sleeves and steeled her heart. 

A busy mind was the best distraction from a battered soul.

* * *

Cold stone dug into his palms as they hit the ground at full speed. The physics of exiting a Rift at a full running tilt seemed to be slightly skewed from what he was used to in either the waking or dreaming worlds. Apparently, one could not simply step from physical presence in the Fade. Instead, you were deposited. The entire process was fascinating, to be sure, but also deeply undignified.

Solas cleared his throat roughly as he righted himself and straightened his clothing as best he could, wet and splattered in all matter of otherworldly muck as they were. Why he bothered, he did not know. As his fellow mages were fond of teasing, he dressed with a… what was the phrase the insufferable Vint had used? An unwashed apostate hobo. Yes, that was the one. His companion had found himself very amusing after that comment.

The rest of the party fell around him, each of them sprawling in an ignominious heap as he had. A flash of white heralded the arrival of the Inquisitor, the final member of the party. He rolled before springing to his feet and sending streams of brilliant green lightning into the Rift that tore open the center of the courtyard. His face contorted with concentration as he held his hand aloft, the anchor clearly paining him. Solas was surprised he had lasted as long as he had with such a strong magical mark in his hand. At last, the Rift pulsed violently before collapsing in on itself. Another one sealed.

“Well, let’s not do that again.” Hawke grimaced as she sheathed her twin daggers.

“Why not? It was a party.” The dry response came from the Inquisitor.

Cassandra snorted indelicately. “I think the Fade has addled your wits, Inquisitor.”

“No, they’ve always been like this.” Haleir said, his face quirking into half a smile.

The courtyard was mostly deserted, only a few guards remained. They had obviously been occupied clearing some of the rubble that had fallen in the battle, but now they stood and stared open-mouthed with their tasks forgotten.

“It seems they were not expecting us.” Dorian stepped up beside him, clutching his staff in both hands. 

“Indeed.” Solas replied. He thought it odd that the soldiers were so thoroughly shocked by their appearance.

Pounding footfalls echoed through the Keep, heralding the arrival of many bodies. The curly blonde head of Commander Cullen was the first to round the corner. His face was sweaty and lined with exhaustion, eyes rimmed in red. 

“Inquisitor!” He called, his voice nearly shaking. “This is… a shock, I must admit. Maker’s Breath, we thought all of you were dead.”

“Cullen! No such luck. I’m apparently much harder to kill that I thought. The Fade is no match for me.” Haleir’s voice cut through the din as he strode forward, surprisingly upbeat considering their recent experiences in the Fade. “It seems we’ve missed some things. I’ll need a status report immediately.”

Cullen’s back snapped up straight. “You’ve been gone two days. We had to take action on our own. The Venatori magister and the remaining Grey Wardens have been imprisoned in the Keep’s dungeon, awaiting word from Skyhold on how to deal with them in your absence.”

“And the army?” 

“The wounded have been slowly taken back to Griffon Wing Keep as their status has allowed, but the bulk of the standing forces remain. Morale has been… low since your presumed death.” The Commander’s brows fell heavy over his eyes. It was clear that the past days had not been kind to the ex-Templar. “Where is the Grey Warden Stroud? I was told that he entered the Rift with you.”

Haleir’s shoulders deflated as he released a deep sigh. “It seems we have much to discuss. We should make preparations to get back to Skyhold as soon as possible.” The Inquisitor turned to his worn and muck-plastered companions. “Cassandra, if you would accompany us, I would appreciate your thoughts. The rest of you, you should all go and get some rest.”

“Wonderful. Although drowning myself in some wine sounds better than rest, at the moment.” Hawke replied, affecting a small bow before turning on her armored foot and retreating towards the gates.

Solas inclined his head and said his farewells to those left in the courtyard before taking his leave. As much as he would like to be informed on what the Inquisitor decided to do regarding the fate of the Grey Wardens, he did not think that any decisions would be made right away. There were things that bore considering tonight, namely the words the Nightmare had spoken to him. 

_ “Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din." _

Maybe the demon was right. But maybe it was not. Eventually, one of them would be. Only time would tell.

Two days they had spent walking the Fade. Solas had known that the time would pass differently between the two worlds with the Veil there to sever their connection to each other. The scale was far more unbalanced that he would have assumed, with the hours they had spent chasing the Nightmare equating to days in the waking world. The implications of such a thing were tremendous. His fingers itched to retire to his tent to put his observations to paper. Perhaps Natalie would not mind if he talked through his thoughts with her. Maybe that was just his selfish nature, wishing to see the spark in her eyes as her brain muddled over a question. 

He sobered at the thought of her, of his final words. It had been pure impulse to utter them to her in the heat of their parting. Her softly spoken words to him in the darkness had kept him from slumber for long hours as she had curled around his body and sunk her fingers deep into his heart, making him sentimental and foolish. For good or ill, she had made a home for herself in the deep recesses inside him. It was not something he would have allowed had he realized what she was doing, but she had taken him by surprise. She deserved something far different than what he could offer.

_ I see you.  _

The look in her warm green eyes had been enough to make him think, just for a brief moment, that perhaps she really did. 

He stopped to wash the stink of otherworldly beasts from his skin before making his way to his tent in the growing dusk. The lure of even the creaking cot within was strong. Perhaps Wisdom would find him tonight and shed some light on the questions battering at the edges of his mind. He expected that he would sleep soundly tonight.

What he did not expect was the sight of pale limbs in his bed. Long, bare limbs. Solas stopped dead in the entrance, his mind going blank. He felt a deep unfurling of warmth in his belly as his eyes traced the slender curve of a calf, the long lines of gently sloping thighs, all the way to the soft hills of a full hip. Shadows kissed the smooth white expanse of her skin, trailing dark tendrils up to hidden places his eyes could not see. Thudding beats shook his chest from the inside. Sweet creators, he wanted to see what lay beyond. 

Natalie’s face was soft in sleep, partially obscured by the long locks of curling hair that flowed around her head and pooled across the blankets. Thick and full and soft, his fingers itched to bury themselves within its masses. She lay wrapped in in those inky tresses and familiar fabric. Blood rushed to his groin as he realized what she wore. His shirt. A wave of possessiveness clouded his brain. She was dressed in his clothing, asleep in his bed. 

His. 

With shaking hands, Solas set his staff down and knelt beside the sleeping woman who occupied his space. His fingers hovered above her skin. It looked so soft, and he wanted to feel it beneath his touch. He could smell the soft scent of her, like sweet vanilla and fresh green herbs. For a brief moment, he considered sinking into the bed. Burying his face between her breasts and inhaling that scent. 

With a soft curse, he snatched his hand back. No. It was a terrible idea. One he would not allow himself to indulge in.

She groaned, startling him. Her limbs shifted and stretched as she rolled onto her side. His breathing caught as the hem of the shirt rode up, exposing a few more precious inches. Swallowing hard, he tried to suppress down the rising heat in his body. He was painfully hard and in desperate need of some control over himself.

Mustering the last of his resolve, he rose to leave the tent. He needed to get away, to gather his thoughts. Some distance would help him to resist the temptation. Forbidden fruit that he would not, could not, taste.

Just as he reached to draw back the flaps, a soft gasp came from behind him, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Solas?” 

 

* * *

Natalie’s eyes opened, the bleary outline of a tall form in the door to the tent taking shape slowly. She had taken the night shift in the triage tent after her late wake up the day before, half from guilt and half from the need to not be alone with his memory all night. The plan had only been partially successful. The long hours after darkness had fallen and most of the patients had drifted to sleep were still too quiet. Too solitary. Tears had welled in the quiet places after the distraction of company was gone. 

The weak light of the pale dawn had been a mercy. She had retreated to the tent to sleep, only to be tormented by endless nightmares in the Fade. It had been a long day already, and she had just woken up.

“Solas?”

Or was this still a terrible dream? It had to be. 

Her vision cleared enough to make out the familiar planes and angles of her love’s face. This was a new trick. A cruel one. 

“How dare you.” Her voice left her as a harsh rasp. 

The demon tilted its head, staring at her with Solas’ blue eyes. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“You think to torture me with his face?” Her hands shook against the blankets.

“Natalie.” His face swam in her vision as he crossed the tent in two long strides to kneel before her. 

Panic beat at her weary mind. She shoved a hand out to stop the demon from getting any closer, her palm planting itself firmly against its chest. “Get back!” 

The face softened, beloved eyes warming. She could feel the tears forming a lump in her throat, but she would not let them fall. You could show no weakness to a demon, for they would exploit any they saw. 

A warm hand covered hers, sliding her palm up until she could hear the strong beat of a heart radiating up her arm. “Natalie. Feel the beat of my heart. I am here.”

She couldn’t help the tear that streaked down her face. “But you’re dead.” She whispered. Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear looking at his face any longer. 

The hand on hers spasmed a moment before she felt long fingers wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “As much as it looked like I might be, I am not. We were able to use a different Rift to return.”

Bright hope filled her chest as she opened her eyes. She held his gaze for long moments, searching for any hint of deception. She focused on the warm fingers on her skin, the fierce beating of his heart. Could it…? Was it true? “Solas?”

“Yes, vhenan.”

That word. He had called her that just before he had left for Adamant. It  _ was _ him. He was  _ alive.  _ She could feel the blood thrumming in her veins, euphoric in her joy and relief. 

And then she was lost. 

Her mouth crashed into his as she left the cot and bore him to the floor, her hands frantically winding around his neck. The need to feel him against her skin as necessary as breath. It was desperate hunger. His arms encircled her, crushing her against his chest. A mewling came from within her throat as she ground her hips against him. There were too many barriers between them still. His tongue teased her lips apart as her hands found the buckles of his belt, fumbling to undo them in her urgency. 

Tearing her mouth from his, she pulled at the leather with a huff of frustration. His soft laughter rumbled along her nerves. “Let me help you with that.”

The clink of metal and the rough slide of leather on cloth filled her ears and he claimed her mouth once again, his tongue rough against hers. A thump sounded as the belt hit the floor. Hands roved her sides, spreading heated tingles where they touched her. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs. They continued their journey, sliding ever downward until they found the bare skin beyond the hem of his shirt. 

A strangled sound came from his throat as his hands gripped the cheeks of her ass, finding that the skin was indeed nothing but bare skin beneath. “Fenhedis, woman. You are going to be the death of me.” He murmured against her mouth. 

Solas lifted her and surged from the floor, pinning her beneath him. Natalie gasped, the weight of his body on hers making her head spin. She yanked at his clothing, pulling them away until the floor was littered with his outer trappings and his glorious skin lay beneath her hands. HIs body was a work of art, long and lean with powerful muscles moving under velvet skin. 

His mouth renewed their efforts to tease her lips swollen and his finger made short work of the tunic that covered her nakedness. She lay bare and open before him and his eyes blazed with wonder as he surveyed the hills and valleys like a conquering warlord.

“Please.” The word left her lips a prayer.

And so he fell on her and they sunk into each other. The sound of her panted breath filled the small space as his mouth whispered heated promises across her breasts and down her belly. Pants became moans as he found the knot of nerves between her legs, pressing his fingers to it in firm circles and sending ripples of pleasure through her. She felt the slickness of herself on his hands as he stroked her molten flesh, plunging inside and wringing ragged cries from her. 

“ _ Please _ .” She gasped, no longer a prayer but a plea.

A growl left his throat, half feral, as he covered one of her breasts with his mouth, drawing the nipple deeply. A deep pull of pleasure shot from his mouth to where his fingers teased and rubbed and she felt herself teetering on the edge of a cliff. Grasping. Needing. Wanting. And then she fell, the wave of pleasure rising to meet her and carry her back down to earth as she cried out his name. 

His eyes blazed in the dim light as they met hers and he came back to press urgent kisses on her lips, his hand warm against her cheek as she rode out the last spasms of her orgasm. 

“Juveran na su tarasyl, vhenan.” His words were low and husky as he hitched her leg around his hip. She could feel the blunt tip of him prodding at her swollen flesh. He teased and rubbed, but did not enter, and she growled her frustration at him. The feel of his fingers had not been enough. There was a restless urgency in her flesh, a quivering need in her muscles. She needed more. 

With hands and lips, she urged him onward, pulling him down to her. He scraped his teeth and lips along her flesh and ignored her cries, waited until she was writhing and desperate beneath him. Only then did he give in to her pleas, rolling his hips up to fill her. 

“Oh,  _ fuck.”  _ She whimpered, her nails leaving half-moons on his shoulders as she stretched around him.

The feel of him hard and hot within her was glorious as he moved with sure strokes, shallow and gradually deeper. Her breath hitched as her head hit the floor of the tent and her back arched against him. His eyes found her face and fastened there, watching the trembling muscles in her throat as jagged cries fell from her lips. 

His nails raked against her scalp as he pulled her mouth to his is a fierce kiss, suckling her lower lip. Hands skimmed across sweat-soaked skin as he increased his pace, her legs wrapped firm around his waist and hips moving to meet his at the top of each thrust. Static pooled low in her belly, growing louder and louder. Until the world went silent, and then shattered into glorious noise as she threw her head back and sobbed her delight to the heavens.

“La ane emma.” He gasped. 

Her vision was still clouded with stars as he filled her ears with strings of guttural elven phrases. Even without knowing the language, the meaning behind his words was clear as she felt him come undone against her.

They collapsed in a tangle of damp flesh as the world righted once again. His fingers wrote poems on her skin as she lay dozing on his chest and listened to the the beat of his heart steady itself. She felt boneless, her mind and body utterly spent after the harrowing rollercoaster of the last few days. 

“How do you feel?” He murmured, his voice rough.

Natalie gave him a slow, sleepy smile. “Wonderful. I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

He chuckled. “It should be a shame if you had to stay abed until the feeling returns.”

“Mr. Solas. I am shocked at you making such scandalous suggestions to me. Shocked.” She teased.

“If you find that so shocking, then we may need to keep smelling salts handy for what I plan to suggest later.”

His words ensured that at least one part of her was no longer sleepy. “Maybe. You’ll just have to suggest it and see.”

She could feel the rumble of his laugh against her cheek. The desire to stay just like this, to let herself drift away while they lay skin to skin and heart to heart, was so tempting. But despite her exhaustion, she felt a nagging question in the back of her mind. 

Draping her body across his chest, she crossed her arms and rested her head atop them so she could gaze down into his face. His eyes shone soft and warm in the dim light within the tent, more peaceful than she had ever seen him look before. 

“The morning of the battle—“ She began but cut herself short, overcome by a strange sense of shyness. “You said something and then told me you would tell me what it meant when you returned. Well, you’ve returned…” She trailed off, hoping he would continue without her.

“Ar lath ma.” He reached up to brush a damp curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a sigh. “It means ‘I love you.’”

Warmth spread in her chest. She felt her bottom lip tremble a little as a smile danced across her face. “You love me?”

“You have left me no other choice.”

The warmth blossomed into a dazzling sunrise and she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Did you all notice that rating change? ;) Also, this story broke 200 pages in my google drive doc with this chapter and that's CRAZY to me.
> 
> Anyway, a quick note. I am aware that I have messed with the game's timeline here. I just don't think its realistic for them to pop right out again like they do in game. Time still passes in the Fade and I like the idea that they were gone for a while. They came back out a moment later in Redcliffe because of time travel, so that scenario doesn't fit here. Especially when you consider that canon discusses the Templars killing Mages if their Harrowing takes too long. And at the end of the day... I marked this story canon divergent AU for a reason. 
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who are reading, commenting, leaving kudos, or any combination of the above! Your feedback keeps me motivated. <3


	26. After the Storm

The first catcall happened a mere ten steps outside the tent. Varric and Hawke stood exchanging conspiratorial glances, looking for all the world like a couple of cats who got into the cream. Varric’s whistle was shrill and loud and Natalie instantly felt heat creep across her cheeks. _Right. Thin canvas walls_ . If they hadn’t heard the first time, then chances are that they heard it the second… or the third. It had been a busy night.  
  
She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so conspicuous leaving somewhere. It wasn’t to say that she had never done the walk of shame. She generally just didn’t make a practice of it.  And definitely not after an entire army encampment had listened in. In the end, you had to be ashamed for it to be a walk of shame, so she did the only thing there was to do.  
  
She squared her shoulders, grinned, and blew Varric a kiss. A motion that earned her a double thumbs up from Hawke as the two of them sauntered away.  
  
Natalie refused to allow herself to feel like anything that had happened between she and Solas last night was wrong or needed to be hidden. It had felt right. It still did. And it was bound to happen more, so there was no point in hiding it.  
  
“I see they wasted no time.” Solas’ low whisper sent a shiver down her spine as he approached from behind, his warm breath brushing her ear in stark contrast to the chill of the early morning air.

“No, they sure didn’t.”    
  
“I must say that that particular shade of pink is very becoming on you.”  
  
She was momentarily confused by his statement before she realized what he meant. Her pink cheeks. “Thank you so much for pointing that out.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at him. His face betrayed little of what he was thinking, but he had that warm sparkle in his eye that made her legs go a little wobbly.  
  
“I simply wanted to make sure you were aware.” His warm hand burned into her lower back as it propelled her forward, his fingers pressing into her hip. “You should eat something this morning. I am sure you are hungry.”  
  
Natalie bit her lip to suppress a smile. His arrogance was limitless, but she really was hungry. “Oh yes, I’m _starving_.” The press of his fingers became just the tiniest bit harder. She could feel her breath quicken a little. His very nearness made her head swim.

“We should probably be on our way.”

She made a tiny, helpless whine before quickly clearing her throat to cover it up. “Yeah, we probably should.”  
  
They walked side by side toward the cooking fire. Their bodies gravitating toward each other, his hand still resting on her hip. It was a claiming grip, a possessive one. He was clearly trying to make an unspoken point to her and anyone else who happened to look and it was lucky for him that she didn’t particularly mind. Let him have his way this time, because she knew that he belonged to her as much as she did to him. There was a comfortable familiarity that had bloomed between them, or maybe it had been there all along.  
  
The second whistle came as soon as they rounded the corner of the last tent in the row. This one was from Hale, who stood near the fire with Cassandra. His face split into a feline smile when he saw he had her attention, thoroughly self-satisfied and utterly insufferable. She compressed her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him in warning. She wasn’t sure what she had expected that to accomplish, but it only made his grin bigger. The urge to kick him in the shin was near overwhelming, even though she was relieved to see him whole and well.  
  
Dorian sat nearby with Varric, all of them staring at the pair of them. Every face was intensely interested, every mouth looked to be holding back words. Natalie couldn’t handle the tension that was slowly building as they all stared at each other. Her fingers began to fidget. Why did they all have to be so goddamn awkward?  
  
It got to be too much. Someone needed to break the silence. “Oh, let’s have it. I can tell you all are dying to comment.” She snapped.  
  
Hale barked a laugh. “It is too quiet for you? I just figured it would be a nice change of pace from last night.”  
  
There it was.  
  
“You should talk to Maryden when we get back to Skyhold. You really have a lovely singing voice, Bunny.” Varric crossed his arms across his chest, eyes sparkling with glee.

 _Jesus fucking christ._ She could feel the burning heat in her cheeks and she blushed violently. “I’ll be sure to do that.”  
  
“Singing? I thought it sounded more like screaming. I do hope you didn’t find any snakes in your bedroll, darling.” Dorian apparently couldn’t resist. “Or maybe that you did.” He arched an eyebrow.  
  
Natalie nearly choked on her tongue. “Dorian!” The ribbing was expected, but damn that was blunt. She should have known this lot would never pass up an opportunity.  
  
Hale could hardly contain himself. “Oh yes, you have to be careful with snakes, Nat. They get in your garden and really cause a sticky situation.”

She groaned and looked up at Solas for reinforcement. To her surprise, his expression was smug. He seemed completely at ease with the conversation, amused even. Whatever help she had thought might come from that quarter was going to be a long time coming, as he seemed as eager to hear her response as the others.

Saving grace came in the form of Iron Bull, to her surprise. His massive form swept into the clearing around the cooking fire, took one look at the assembled company and her cherry red cheeks and threw his head back with a roaring laugh.

He clapped Solas on the shoulder with his meaty hand and gave him a little shake. “Looks like she’s walking fine. I have some tricks I could pass on, fix that right up for you.”

The florid splash of color that crept up Solas’ collar and across his cheeks was almost worth her own embarrassment. He looked horrified, his shoulders stiffening under the Qunari’s heavy grip. “Thank you, but I am sure I do not need guidance from you on the matter.”

Natalie didn’t manage to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in her throat and it earned her a long-suffering look from her lover.

Cassandra’s firm voice cut through all the tomfoolery. “I’ve heard enough of this. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

Hale coughed to cover his laughter. “Right. We do.” Straightening to his full height, he shook off the merriment of the past minutes and addressed them gravely. “I wanted to inform you that the Grey Wardens have consented to stay and assist the Inquisition, although under heavy guard.”

Natalie felt Solas stiffen beside her. His agitation written on his features. “Inquisitor, if I—“

“I’m not finished.” Hale pinned him with a sharp glance. “Cullen has already given orders to break camp and move back to Griffon Wing Keep. From there, we will leave the army to march on their own and we will make for Skyhold. Josephine has pressing business for us to attend to. Be ready to depart in the morning.” Hale spun on his heel, the mirth gone from his handsome features, and made to leave the group behind.

Her heart leapt in her chest. They were leaving. Did those orders include her? Her mission had been to help set up a clinic here, not to stay and run it. Right? In the end, she would stay and do what needed to be done but she would be lying if she said that the thought of more months of sand and heat didn’t make her want to claw her skin off.

“I’ll be back. I need to talk to Hale.” She whispered to Solas.

His answering nod was jerky, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“What’s wrong? You look angry.”

He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “It is nothing to be concerned with. Go and talk to the Inquisitor, and I will find you with your pack and staff when we are ready to be underway.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Natalie wasn’t sure why the thought of him packing her things made her feel to strange, but it did. He had had his hands on far more than her spare clothing at this point. “I can pack my own things.”

Solas smiled at her and brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone as her legs turned to wobbly mush. “I assumed you would be busy elsewhere, with the other healers. It is a small matter.”

She wanted to let herself melt into his soft touch, but she held strong. There was no way she was going to give the rest of them more ammunition to continue the teasing. “Alright.” The words came out breathy, much to her embarrassment. She really needed to get a hold on herself here. Hormones were a hell of a drug. “I will see you later then.”

“Until later.”

It took an enormous amount of willpower to pull herself away, but she managed it. She left Solas standing alone near the fire, a small smile playing across his features.

Hale was making good progress across the field of tents, his long legs eating up the ground beneath him as she hurried after him on her much shorter ones. His long, white hair blew down his back in the slight breeze, cool before the sun had had a chance to turn it stifling.

“Hale!” She called, nearly out of breath.

He turned to face her, slowing his steps slightly so she could catch up. His face was unreadable. “Natalie.”

“Good lord, you walk fast. I feel like I’m chasing you.”

“Technically, you were.”

She huffed at him. “I am deeply offended by the indignity.”

Hale let out a small laugh and stopped to sling an arm around her shoulders, dragging her against his lean frame as they walked. “If you weren’t afraid to put on that show last night, then you shouldn’t be afraid to chase me across the camp.”

She shoved at his side. “Oh hush. You grew up in a camp! You think hearing people having a private moment wouldn’t be so shocking to your delicate sensibilities.”

“It’s not.” He grinned down at her. “I just can’t believe the two of you finally stopped dancing around each other.”

That infernal heat was back, making tracks across her face. “Well, apparently it takes a near death experience. Glad you’re not dead, by the way.”

“Thanks for remembering that I almost died too.”

“You know me, selfish asshole.”

“Yeah, I do know that.” He ruffled the hair on top of her head, dislodging several strands from her braid.

“Hale! It takes forever to tame my hair without a mirror.” She cried, swatting his hand away.

He just laughed at her, ruffling it more. “And I’m sure it was in rare form this morning. I think it looks better that way.”

She let out a loud sound of disgust that rumbled in her throat. “Can we please stop with the ‘Natalie had sex with Solas’ comments? _Please?_ ”

“Never.”

Natalie rolled her eyes but pulled him to a stop, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I really am glad to see you. It gutted me when they told me you all had gotten yourselves dropped into a rift.”

Hale’s arms settled around her as he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m glad to see you too, and even more glad to be back here and not stuck in the Fade. It was… terrible.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“The worst part is that it’s not the first time, and I remember it all now.” His voice was strained, like it came from far away.

It only made her squeeze him a little tighter. “I hope you know that you can talk to me. Anytime you need to.”

“I know. Thank you.”

They stood there for several long moments. Natalie was sure that they were attracting strange looks but to hell with everyone else. People were sure to question what her relationship with Hale was, especially considering last night, but it was really none of their business. For some reason, telling them that he was her platonic soulmate would probably attract just as many questions.

“What did you come looking for me for?” Hale asked, after a few moments.

Natalie pulled away and let him settle his hands on her shoulders. She wasn’t entirely sure how to broach the subject. It felt presumptuous to assume that she was included in the statement he had made to them this morning, but it felt equally so to ask. But she had to know.

“So, you all are leaving tomorrow?”

Hale eyed her. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to know?”

She couldn’t stop a small snort from leaving her nose. He knew her too well. “ I wanted to know if I was included in that. I don’t want to stay at Griffon Wing. I want to go back to Skyhold.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed at her. “Why would I have addressed all of you as a group, if I wasn’t including you?”

“Why don’t you stop answering my questions with another question and give me a straight answer?”

His laughter rang out. “I’m sorry. I’m just messing with you. I didn’t intend for you to have to stay here in the Western Approach. A couple of the other mages volunteered to remain and run the clinic at the Keep and watch over the wounded, so you are free to travel back.”

Natalie grinned and started to reply, but he cut her off. “However, I am warning you now that it will be a hard trip. We’re leaving without the army and we’re going to move fast. And it’s going to be more dangerous without a squad of soldiers to help. If that’s not something you want to do, then you can stay and leave with the army.”

“No. I’m definitely coming with you.”

“I just want to be clear, this is me trusting that you learned your lesson from the last fight you were involved in. We’ll be small in number and you will have to defend yourself. There won’t be anyone to keep an eye on you if things get hairy.”

“I’m not a child, Hale.”

“I know you’re not. I’m telling you to prove it to everyone else.”

The sound that came out of her mouth may or may not have been a squeal. She didn’t want to look into it too much. No, definitely not a squeal, because thirty year old women didn’t squeal. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him quick and tight. “I promise I won’t get in the way, Hale. I’m just so damn happy to get out of this fucking sand.”

He snorted. “Are you sure it’s that? Or are you just happy that you won’t have to get left behind by your new lover?”

She was not amused. “Very funny.”

“Please tell me this isn’t going to be two weeks of listening to the two of you go at it.”

A loud smack reverberated up her arm as her hand connected with his bicep. “Stop! Oh my _god_! I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” The pink tip of his tongue glistened between his lips as he stuck it out at her.

“Did you seriously just do that? You’re such a child.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“A nuisance. Now run along, the adults have work to do.”

He managed to reach out and muss her hair one last time before darting away, blowing a raspberry at her over his shoulder as she shook her fist at him. Her heart swelled as she watched him saunter away. The deep well of grief she had felt over the last couple of days was not filled by one person, but two. Natalie knew that he had made a deep home in her heart, even if it’s shape was different that the one that Solas occupied.

By the time she arrived at the medical tent, they had the tear down pretty well underway. Crates had been packed and loaded, patients stable enough to walk had been released to their units and those who were not were being loaded into a couple of empty wagons. She felt another stab of respect for their Commander and the way he ran his army. The seamless teamwork of the soldiers doing the work spoke volumes.

She jumped in and set herself to work helping strip beds and pack away the extra clean and soiled linens, marking things that needed to be washed or burned. After that, cleaning down any remaining instruments and knives and making sure they were all accounted for. It was a waste to allow good tools to go to waste through neglect or forgetfulness. The minutes slipped by beneath busy fingers as all the remaining cots were stacked and readied for travel.

Before long, the tent fell in a billow of sun-bleached canvas, wafting the scent of herbs and clean cotton and the metallic tang of blood into her nose. They were familiar smells. These were familiar tasks. Even with the unfamiliar scenery. It was amazing how these smells had become more to her in the months of her life with the Inquisition than the smells of bleach and alcohol and antibacterial soap that had marked her ten years working in hospitals. She felt more normalized in this moment, standing in the desert watching an army dismantle a war camp, that she had in a long time. More than just a warm body, but an essential cog in this well-oiled machine.

It was there that Solas found her, his arms laden with her pack and staff. Her heart swelled at the sight of him. His angular face was so calm until their eyes met and his whole contenance warmed, a half-smile touching his lips. He silently handed over her staff, the warmth of his hands still soaking into the wood and warming her fingers.

“Have you accomplished everything you needed to here?”

“I think so. They are just packing away the tent.” She slid her pack from his shoulder and hoisted it onto her own.

“Shall we depart then?

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry about the delay, we moved offices at work this week and shit was CRAZY. Also, I decided to delay this chapter until Friday to get back on my regular posting schedule. Hopefully. we'll be back on our regularly scheduled programming from here on out.
> 
> ALSO, I'm not sure if this is obnoxious to post or not, but did y'all know that I have a Tumblr? I'm new to it and still figuring it out (and I'm old and set in my ways) but I have one. I post Dragon Age and fanfic related stuff and may or may not have also posted some art today of our favorite duo (that would be this [right here](https://lanalin-ish.tumblr.com/post/178981087081/a-little-sketch-of-solas-and-natalie-from-my-fic)). Find me at [Lanalin-ish](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lanalin-ish). Feel free to drop me a line or check out whatever nonsense I'm posting about. Or don't. It's cool. I'll still love and appreciate you.


	27. Needed Me

Green lightning arced across the sky sending resounding cracks echoing off of the nearby rocks. The gargling screech of a Rage demon rent the air, mingling with the buzzing din of the rift. Eerie, wavering light stained the monotone brown plains vivid green to match. Natalie felt a mild sort of annoyance at being relegated to watching the horses while everyone ran off to slaughter demons. Then again, she had no wish for death or dismemberment today. She was frankly a little surprised that was the first one they had run into in the four days they had been on the road back to Skyhold. Hale had told her stories about their frequency on their other journeys. She had assumed that they had steered wide from them on their departing trip, but they didn’t have the luxury of scouting parties this time.

The small rise she stood on put her on a perch above the ravine where the Rift had materialized. Rain pattered down around her, soaking the dry soil and turning its dusty surface to a deep brown hue. The horses seemed less than happy with the drops falling onto their broad backs. Their tails and ears twitched in furious motion, batting the wetness away as they munched on the now much shorter grass beneath their hooves. Natalie tugged the hood of her cloak a little higher around her head, trying to stave off the worst of it. For all the good that did. She was miserable and long since soaked to the skin.

A war cry rang out from below her as the small figures of her companions came into view, their forms making a beeline for the Rift and its eldritch guardians. Cassandra’s gleaming armor and Bull’s hulking form led the charge, sword and axe dancing in harmony as writhing bodies fell beneath their blades. Hale’s form wavered and blurred, darting forward as Varric, Dorian and Solas hung back.

She had never really had the opportunity to observe them in full fighting mode like this. The last battle, she had been too absorbed in the simple act of not dying to pay much attention. Magic tingled at her fingertips as it split the air below her. Sharp lightning and blazing fire danced a lethal ballet, separating flesh from bone as it cut through the enemy. It was evident from the way that they all played at each other’s strengths that they were well used to fighting as a unit. Where one went high, the other was low. Where one launched a frontal assault, the other snuck in from behind. It was an awe-inspiring scene, and it was no wonder they had had such success traveling the breadth of southern Thedas closing the rifts.

Her eyes found the tall figure of her elven lover amidst a glowing halo of deadly magic. His eyes practically burned with the forces he harnessed and unleashed with effortless grace. He was elegant in his barrage, limbs moving in precisely timed measures. The conductor of his own symphony. The sight of him left her breathless and tingling. His long fingers juggled crackling lightning. She could feel the ghosts of those fingers on her skin. His face lined with intensity. She could see the flush of his cheeks and the crinkle of his brow in the darkness as he loomed over her. His body tense with barely leashed power. She remembered the press of him, bearing her to the floor.

There was never a moment when she would have thought that watching someone fight would be a turn on but she guessed there was a first time for everything. Hunger gnawed at her, deep in her belly. She wondered what the chances would be of her pinning him to a tree far enough away from the camp that they wouldn’t be discovered. A sudden visceral flash of heat filled her as she let herself indulge in the little fantasy for a moment. The rough bark of the tree, the feel of damp grass beneath her knees as she knelt, his hand tangled in her hair, the cool rain on heated skin, the taste of his salty skin on her tongue.

A loud crack broke her out of her scandalous thoughts. The Rift pulsed and snapped before collapsing, leaving the air clear of its virulent presence. Natalie inhaled a shaking breath as she tried to clear her mind of the vision that had filled it. She fanned the heat in her cheeks quickly, hoping to disperse what was sure to be a glorious blush before they got back to her. It seemed wildly inappropriate to be in such a state in front of people.

How had the day gotten on this particular track? Natalie felt like she had been possessed. Possessed by her own hormones. When she had told Solas on the outset of this journey that they should sleep in their own tents, she hadn’t anticipated feeling quite so parched about it. There was just no way she was going to spend two weeks being teased by the fearsome foursome.

 _Good lord, woman. Get yourself together._

It wasn’t as if there was some kind of understanding between them anyway. They had yet to have a conversation about what everything meant. That night in the tent after he returned from the Fade. The declarations that had been made. Despite all that had happened, they remained dancing around each other. But now with the added burden of the freedom to touch. And he liked to touch her. Small touches. Secret touches when no one was watching. Whispers of fingers on her arms. The brush of his hand as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. A warm caress on her thigh as he helped her down from her horse at the end of the day. He was driving her slowly insane.

Slowly, deliciously insane.

Voices filtered up the rise as the group of them climbed up to her perch. Heads appeared over the top of the hill. Tired and bloodied heads, wet from both the sweat of exertion and the rain.

Hale was ahead of the rest of the group and stopped near the top to give her a strange look. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?” But she knew what he meant.

“I don’t know. You’ve got this weird look on your face.”

Natalie swept her hand at him, brushing of his comments. “It’s just my face. Are you trying to say I’m weird looking?”

He made a noise in his throat, a doubtful one. Thankfully, she was saved by the rest of them cresting the ridge. The object of her earlier fantasies met her eye as he brought up the rear, his gaze burning through her. Heat bloomed across her face again as she averted her eyes. She needed to stop being so damn transparent.

“We should find a place to make camp. This rain isn’t going to let up.” Hale shook his head, droplets of water falling from the ends of his long, pale strands. “And I could use dry clothes and a warm fire.”

Iron Bull grunted in response. He wore far less clothing than the rest of them. Did Qunari run hotter than everyone else? He seemed to be constantly half-clothed, even at Haven in the midst of feet of snow.

“We are starting to run short on daylight anyway.” Cassandra’s athletic form swung easily onto the back of her chestnut gelding. Natalie wished she had half as much grace.

The rest of them made for the horses, mounting swiftly with the promise of dry clothing and a decent night’s sleep to spur them on. Grassy plains dotted with low-laying scrub and the occasional gnarled tree stretched before them as they descended the rise, the same as it did for miles behind. They had left the desert gradually over the past couple days, the sand and heat giving way to miles of waving grassland the color of wheat. Pillars of rock and craggy cliffs broke through the ground, leaving deep pits and ravines.

It in was in one such cliffside that they found a sheltered nook just as the sun began its final descent into the horizon. Big enough to pitch tents and keep the horses from the on-going drizzling rain, which seemed unlikely to quit anytime soon, it seemed the perfect place to spend a quiet night and dry off.

Natalie dismounted Daisy and stripped her soaking, unhappy mount of her saddlebags. The poor animal had done her share today and easing her burden seemed prudent. She had just begun to unbuckle the straps of her bridle when Hale’s hands stopped hers.

“I’ll take care of her.”

“Hale, she’s my horse. I can do it. I have the last four days.”

And she had. The very first night, Cassandra has shown her how to strip the saddle and blankets from Daisy’s back and brush her down in a rare spurt of friendliness. It was the longest interaction she had had with the woman to date and Natalie had felt a jolt of surprise when she had made the offer. She found the Seeker to be, on the whole, an extremely intense and intimidating presence. Natalie didn’t think they were going to be best friends any time soon.

“The tack needs extra care after getting wet. It needs to be done quickly before the leather dries. If you want to be useful, go find something to start a fire with so we can be warm while we work.” Hale replied without looking. He was was thoroughly engrossed in the task of relieving Daisy of her leather prison.

“Alright.” Natalie replied. She couldn’t help but feel slightly put out by his attitude. In the end, she got it. She was the least experienced with this kind of thing.

Shrugging her damp cloak back onto her shoulders, Natalie pulled the hood up over her head and wandered out of the sheltered rocks. There were not many trees, but she thought she had seen a few and some scrubby bushes on their way around the rocks. Hopefully, some if it would be dry enough to set alight. But of course, mage fire seemed to burn through wood no matter what. Even after months, these moments happened where she realized all over again that magic was a thing that existed. It startled her every single time.

Her eyes scanned the distance, searching for any signs of movement and feeling distinctly foolish for leaving her staff back in the camp. It wouldn’t do to be taken by surprise out here and necessitate a rescue. The very idea was repellant.

Which is why, moments later, she heard the soft footfalls behind her. Her muscles tensed, poised to run. Mana flooded into her fingertips, tingling along the nerve endings. Ready and waiting. A breeze drifted, ruffling the grass at her feet, carrying with it a deep, spicy scent.

And she knew who was behind her.

Her breath caught a little as she walked, waiting to see what he was planning on doing. The air felt heavy between him, thick ropes of tension binding her to him. Those last couple of hours on horseback after her little hilltop daydream had been acutely unbearable, the roll and bounce of the saddle stoking the already lit fire.

His heat pressed into her back as his hands slid beneath her arms to cup her breasts, long fingers enveloping the heavy fall of them.

“Solas.” Her breath carried the word from her mouth.

“Quiet, da’len. I thought you were concerned about being overheard.” Solas’ velvet rumble slid through her ears. “You do not wish to be caught, do you?”

Natalie shook her head, letting her head fall back against his shoulder as his fingers pressed into her flesh.

“Keep walking.” His hands fell away from her chest and fell to her hips.

She nodded as her feet propelled her forward. Around a bend of the stone, he spun her around and pinned her against the solid rock wall of the cliffside. Hips pressed against hips, chest against chest. Natalie could hear the blood roaring in her ears as his mouth descended on hers, firm and possessive. His teeth nipped at her bottom lips, sending a spike of pleasure directly to her core.

Fingers unlaced the ties of her cloak at her throat and smoothed down over her shoulders, taking the heavy fabric with it. His lips left hers to trace a line following the same path. He nipped and licked down her neck and along her collarbone, leaving trails of pulsing fire in her skin.

A needy whine left her mouth as he undid the top buttons of her tunic, exposing the round curves of her cleavage to his needy mouth and questing fingers. “Please…”

“I thought I told you of the need to be silent.” His commanding tone rolled over her brain like a summer storm and turned her limbs liquid.

She nodded. “Yes.”

His fingers slid down her body, skimming over her clothing until they grasped the mounds of her ass. His thigh nudged it way between her, settling firmly against the very place she most wanted it. “Here is how this works, vhenan. I will continue, but every time you speak or become too loud I am going to stop.”

Another nod. Even if she had wanted to speak, words failed her. She couldn’t focus on speech with the way his hands were pressing her to ride his muscular thigh. She could feel the sweet, slow build of pressure low in her belly. Head swimming, she moved her hips against him in an effort to ease it. Her hands gripped the solid muscles of his waist. Clutching him closer.

His lips skimmed the curve of her throat as she threw her head back against the stone wall behind her.

“I noticed you seemed to have a problem earlier today.” His teeth drug across her skin, nipping at the upper curve of her breast.

“I recognized that pretty flush along your cheeks.” A cool breeze tickled her stomach as his hand fisted the hem of her tunic and delved beneath it, fingers smoothing over the soft skin.

“I could see the way you were staring at me.” The fingers delved beneath the waistband of her leggings and she saw stars.

A low growl of approval rumbled from his throat as he pressed into the molten heat between her legs. His eyes blazed beneath his half-closed lids. “I thought I would lend you a hand.”

In a single unthinkable motion, he removed the fingers from her smalls and brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out to clean them, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt her mind go blank as she watched that pink tongue, her breath hitching in her throat. In her mind, she saw that tongue caressing somewhere else and the thought made her whole body quiver. She was going to melt clear through the stone behind her.

_Oh shit._

His face split into a wicked smile, those mesmerizing lips quirking and his eyes darkening with intent. And then he was on his knees.

_Fuck. He must be a mind-reader._

The similarities between her current situation and her earlier fantasy were not lost on her. Her back arched as he pushed her shirt up and pressed his lips to her belly. A trail of wetness spread downward as he licked his way the the waist of her pants. She felt coiled like a spring, tension in every line of her body.

He was so close. Just a little further.

In a single smooth motion, he hooked his index fingers into her leggings and yanked them down her hips. She gasped as the cool air and colder drizzle fell on her overheated skin. The dichotomy sent her head spinning and her blood rushing to the surface. She couldn’t breath as he pulled away to divest her of her boots and what remained of her pants and smalls.

His eyes burned into her flesh as he took in the sight of her exposed before him. Tingles of electricity followed the wake of his fingers as they skimmed up her legs, sending the muscles trembling.

“Beautiful.” He breathed, nuzzling his face against the crook of her groin. Breathing her in. She could feel his hot breath across her skin.

She was lost. Utterly lost. She needed this like she needed oxygen. She wanted his mouth on her. Her lungs refused to draw breath. “Fuck, _please_.” She gasped.

He stilled. “What did I say, da’len?”

Natalie’s eyes rolled back in her head. “Shit. I’m sorry. Please don’t stop. _Please_.” She begged, her hands clutched at his shoulders.

Solas’ low chuckle cut through her like a wildfire. “This is your last warning.”

She nodded furiously. Her knuckles whitened around the fistfuls of fabric as she pulled him closer. His fingertips found her warm flesh, touching lightly. Teasing. Skimming up and down the wet seam. It wasn’t enough. Her hips leaned toward him. Urging. Needing.

His blazing eyes locked on hers as he looped her leg over his shoulder and eased his mouth against her. The first touch of his tongue felt like like an explosion. It rippled through her lower belly. The next was an atomic bomb as he closed his lips around her and sucked. She rocked against his mouth as her hands flew up to grasp the rock above her head, clinging for dear life. It was too much and not enough. She was unmoored, adrift.

Teasing fingers pressed their way inside. One. And then two. Her breath tore from her in ragged gasps. She clapped a hand over mouth. If he stopped now, she was going to fly into a thousand tiny pieces.

Teeth and tongue and lips moved in harmony with the long fingers that curled and rubbed within her. He was her maestro and he played her like an expert. Every string rung out with clarity. Every note added to the concerto building within her. He nipped and sucked and licked, leaving her breathless and alive and boneless.

He hummed, deep and low in his throat, his tongue buzzing with vibrato. She felt every ripple along every nerve ending. The music swelled, drowning out the rain and the stone at the back. All the existed was him and his hot mouth and those marvelous fingers. It met the apex of its crescendo just as his fingers curled deep into that delicious spot inside her and she came in a gasping, shuddering explosion. Her body curled forward, grasping hard into his shoulders for support as she rode out the aftershocks, the muscles in her legs threatening to give out completely.

Her vision cleared of its static as he pressed a final kiss the soft skin on her lower belly.

“Holy shit.” Her voice came out a ragged whisper. “You're good at that.”

He let out a dark chuckle but said nothing as he rose from his knees and handed her her discarded boot.

“I think we have firewood to fetch.” His eyes latched onto her face as he brushed the debris from his pants.

Natalie couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what its worth, this wasnt what had planned for this chapter but they had other ideas. XD


	28. Home

It was cold in Emprise du Lion as they crossed back over into the battered, gray lands. The last days of Summer were giving gradual way to Autumn, bringing with it dim and misty mornings and the smell of damp foliage in the air. With a start, she realized that the months had flown by. It felt like waking from a fever dream. Summer had crept past in the desert, where the already heated climate had made it unremarkable and the constant workload had relegated the passage of time to a second thought. She had woken here in the last weeks just before Winter, which meant that three whole seasons had passed since her arrival. Nearly a full year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July... and her late summer birthday. All gone without her notice.

They kept a brisk pace along the road. Daisy bounced at a hard trot beneath her, her back dipping between each impact of her hooves. Natalie let her body rise and fall with every movement. The long days on horseback still left her exhausted and sore, but she could feel her back and abdominal muscles slowly acclimating to the rhythm needed to keep her from greeting the setting sun with a stiff, aching body. 

Her mind was not so lucky.

The pace left her little attention left to speak, but plenty of time to think. And it seemed that her brain was preoccupied with the depressing today. 

Thirty. She was thirty. 

Natalie couldn’t help but consider how differently this next decade of her life was beginning than the last. Twenty-year-old Natalie had been naïve. Idealistic. In her first half of nursing school, she had believed that all it took to save everyone was her simple desire to do so. Young Natalie had been starry-eyed and entertained dreams of volunteering with Doctors Without Borders. She had wanted to travel the world and heal its poor and needy. 

How foolish she had been.

And what a reality check she had gotten. Thirty-year-old Natalie no longer believed that she could save everyone. In fact, she was painfully aware that she couldn’t. Watching people die had the oddest consequence of making you realize that death is always a possibility. 

It was odd how life passed by as you got older. Each year seems shorter than the last. Each moment slipping through your fingers faster and faster until the grains of sand were gone and then there was nothing left to do but die. Apparently, thirty also made her maudlin. Great. What an amazing development.

She couldn’t help but think of Chicago. Of what she would be doing if she were there right now. Midwestern Fall sprang to her mind. She guessed from the weather here, it had likely just barely turned October. The farmer’s market down the street from her apartment would be serving hot apple cider in little styrofoam cups. Stores would be a hodgepodge of skeletons and the early bird Christmas stockings and lights. Pumpkins would be appearing on porches.

A sharp pang of homesickness echoed through her heart. Natalie had not left herself much room to feel the loss of her home, between the early months of shock and the hectic events since. She had told herself that it was better this way. Better not to dwell. The words she had spoken to Solas in the Fade all those months ago were still true. Wasting your life wishing for something lost was pointless. But yet she could feel the warm sting in the backs of her eyes. 

Solas. His tall figure rode beside her wrapped in a long, dark cloak. She spied the sharp angles of his features beneath the hood and the tips of his long ears peering from some small opening he had made in it. What would he think of the world she was from? Would it be as strange and jarring for him as this one had been for her? 

A vision of him curled up with a book on the faded gray couch in her apartment, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, flitted across her mind. His face would be pensive, a slight wrinkle of concentration between his eyes. She would come home from a long shift and crawl across the cushions to curl up on his thigh. Quiet mornings walking hand in hand at the farmer’s market or debating the point of a movie over cups of coffee at the little shop down the road. Shared glasses of wine as they made pasta in her tiny kitchen while the snow came down outside. 

But she could never imagine him without magic. Without his close connection to the Fade. And she could never ask him to give any of that up. If she ever did manage a way back, it would be alone. The thought of it made her heart clench in her chest. 

He must have felt her scrutiny. Blue eyes cleared the fog from her mind, a question peering out from them. She let her lips curl into a smile, even knowing it would not reach her eyes, and shrugged. The heat behind them stung and she willed it back, keeping it at bay with the force of her own will. 

Sometimes it was just easier to keep these things to yourself.

Her darkened thoughts occupied her through the long slog past the broken battlements and skeleton trees. The earlier journey through the region seemed to have solved some of the problems and the roads were far more peaceful and free of animated corpses than they had been when they passed this way before. For that, she was thankful. Another run-in with the undead was the last thing she wanted. 

They crossed a wide stream into a landscape teeming with greenery tinged in vibrant yellow and orange and made camp in a sheltered glade between several tall trees. Warm hands stilled her as she rubbed Daisy’s sides.

“Something is weighing heavily on your mind today, vhenan.”

Natalie let the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding flow out in a long sigh as she rested her forehead against Daisy’s soft shoulder. “It’s nothing. I just seem to be lost in my own head today.”

“If it would ease your burden, I am happy to listen.” 

“I…” She didn’t know how to express what she was feeling today. It was a dark cloud that she could not seem to shake. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m comfortable doing that with so many ears around.”

He made a deep noise of assent in his throat. “Ah, yes, I can see how that might be a problem.” Solas reached out to run a hand along Daisy’s withers. Natalie raised her head to peer up at him through her lashes. Not for the first time, she marveled at how much taller than her he was. His eyes were trained on her face, even as he absently pet the beast before them. “I thought it might be advisable to venture into the Fade tonight and see if we can locate this spirit of yours, now that we are back in the area where she appeared.”

“That is probably smart. You still haven’t seen or heard anything?”

“I have not. And I am making the assumption that you would have informed me if she had revealed herself to you again.”

“You know I would.”

He nodded once, his face smooth and unreadable. “Very well. Tonight we will venture out on a search, then.”

“It’s a date.”

* * *

 

The Fade felt strangely empty as he passed through the Veil from the waking world into the dreaming one. It was odd for him to arrive with so little sense of spirits around him, especially in a place such as the Dales. Ancient and forgotten memories echoed these forests like a thousand whispered pleas battering him from every side. This night it was only his own echo he heard. Quiet such as this did not bode well for a successful hunt, not that any of the previous had been fruitful. 

Glancing around, he did not see the familiar slight form of Natalie anywhere in the vicinity. He had manifested within the Fade in an area very like where they had set up camp. Ancient trees sprouted from the ground in great pillars of gnarled bark and shaded limbs. The faint rush and burble of flowing water came from his left. His awareness crawled across the landscape, creeping tendrils seeking the distinct signature of her energy.

Her brilliant spirit glowed in the distance. She burned like a beacon in the night. It was curious, her shining energy. Something that he had attributed to her otherworldly origins. Something that made her a queer little mystery. A puzzle to be solved. He would be lying to himself if he did not admit that it was the reason he had been drawn to her in the first. He wanted to grasp her loose strands and pull, just see what would be revealed as she unraveled.

Solas had felt somewhat resentful of the distraction her appearance had presented him. There had been, and continued to be, so many important tasks to be accomplished. She had put herself in his path with her bottomless eyes like mossy stones in deep water and her endless string of questions delivered with earnest interest. Her visits had derailed his thoughts more times than he could count.

It was lamentable. And he had had no choice but to love her for it.

His feet whispered across the soft debris on the forest floor, bare toes feeling the chill of the damp litter. A tug at his navel drew him forward through the trees until they thinned and the shining water of a shallow, bubbling stream presented itself. He spied the long fall of her dark hair before he saw her face. The strands were loose and free to twist into a halo of thick, earth-hued curls around her head. A sudden urge to plunge his hands into its soft mass stilled him and he fought it down.

She sat with her knees curled to her chest, staring out across the clear expanse of the water before her. The same sadness he had seen on her face during their ride today was painted across her delicate features. Emotions flitted across her face like flashes of lightning. Confusion. Grief. Anger? Whatever was on her mind was clearly causing her no end of turmoil. 

“Your thoughts are loud tonight.” Solas folded his limbs onto the ground beside her, their shoulders hovering just outside the realm of touch. “Would you care to share them now that there are no traveling companions to hear?”

She turned her forest pool eyes on him, releasing a heavy sigh. “I am just feeling sorry for myself today.”

“And what is there to feel so sorry about?”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. The movement drew his eye to her mouth. To the plump, pink softness there. “I hadn’t realized how long I had been here, but today it occurred to me that it must be nearly a year. It made me think about all the things I have missed at home. I should have had a birthday in the time we were in the Western Approach.”

“Annar’vegara’shenathe nuvenehn, Natalie. I fail to see how a birthday is cause for sadness.”

She heaved a sigh and the slight weight of her head fell against his shoulder. The light scent of lavender and fresh herbs drifted from her hair. “I turned thirty, and it made me think about how much everything has changed.”

“Ah, thirty. Such a venerable old age. It is a wonder you are not as gray and wrinkled as a crone.” He could not resist the urge to tease her. If only she knew how few years that really was.

“I know. Pretty soon I’m going to be so decrepit, you won’t even recognize me.”

“Passing years serve as reminders of the privilege you have had to be allowed to experience them. The lines etched on your face will be the map of a life lived in love and laughter and sorrow, and the wisdom and purpose you have gained from each.” The feel of her so near, resting along his side, proved a temptation too great to resist. It had been so long since he had had someone who he felt he was free to touch and he had craved it in his long years alone. He was grateful that she seemed to be a physically affectionate person by nature. It felt selfish to indulge, but irresistible. Her skin was warm against his as he found her hand and twined his fingers in hers. “I imagine that you will be even more beautiful then than you are now.”

Natalie looked up at him, eyes shining with moisture. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my good sir.”

“It is not flattery, but truth.” 

Her teeth flashed as her face split into a brittle smile. 

“Thank you.” He could feel her shift and then her lips were against his cheek. Plump, soft lips. The urge to turn and capture those lips with his own was calling to him, but he resisted it. Now was not the time. When she pulled away, she settled once more against his shoulder. “I guess I was just feeling homesick. Realizing how long I’ve been away made me think of home and what would be happening if I were there.”

He understood her pain more than she knew. He too longed for home. “Will you show me?” 

A line creased the space between her eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘show me’?”

“Do you forget where we are? The Fade, at its heart, is nothing more than a well of energy and memories that have been imprinted upon it. The memories of your home are in here,” he tapped her forehead lightly, “and you can use them to impress them upon where we reside now. I have seen you do it previously. I know you are quite capable of it.”

Natalie lifted her head, casting her gaze at the landscape surrounding them. “I don’t know how. If I managed it before, it was by accident.”

Solas pulled her hand free of his and pressed it against the soft soil beneath them. “Fill your mind with your memories of a place. Consider every detail. What it looks like. How it smells. What it feels like. Paint a portrait of it in your mind. Then push the image outward, mold the energy around you to fill the shapes you are seeing.”

“I… I guess I can try.” Her fingers flexed into the soil as her eyes fluttered closed. Deep furrows formed across her forehead as she delved deep. The minutes ticked by in silence as he observed her. Her eyelids twitched, small noises coming from deep in her throat. 

How would she handle this task he had set before her? He found himself burning with curiosity to see what was going to come from her mind and shape the air around him. Would she manage to even accomplish it? The many strange things she had mentioned in passing about her homeworld had him intrigued as well. Not that she gave much away. Most of the time it seemed that she kept her secrets close to her chest. Perhaps she found the memories too painful to share. Another thing that he understood.

A palm flattened onto the ground as the moss beneath them gave way to smooth wooden planks. They gleamed beneath her hand and crept slowly across the ground, devouring the grass and soil. It crept faster and faster until it changed course and shot upward. Walls. Where was she thinking of? Pale green walls trimmed in white and dotted with mismatched artwork grew up over their heads before meeting in the center of a white ceiling. Furniture materialized atop a thick rug in shades of gray, worn and scattered with a heap of pillows. A huge bed dominated an entire corner, thick with a heavy white blanket. A strange black object hung above a wooden fireplace and bright sunlight streamed in through tall windows framed in soft drapery.

Was this the place she had called home? It was small and plain, but comfortable. He was startled by the simplicity of the space. He was unsure what he had expected. But it felt right. It matched the woman who had resided here. Soft and peaceful and cozy. It felt like a home.

Natalie fingers skimmed the floor, trembling. Her nails catching in the cracks between the boards. Her face scrunched up with her eyes screwed tightly shut, the lines of concentration morphing into something else. A pang of sympathy ran through him. The first time he had reached for the memories of the place he had called home, he had been left bereft for days. Maybe this had not been his wisest idea. 

“You do not have to look.” He reached out to steady her bouncing knee with his hand. 

“I want to.” She whispered. Her questing fingers left the floor and found his, squeezing. A warm pulse fluttered in his chest. 

With a blink of pale purple light, Natalie opened her eyes and peered around the room. Solas snapped his gaze to her face, studying it. Her eyes were a clear and familiar deep green. He was sure he had not imagined it. Grasping the hand she had slipped into his moments earlier, he sent a whisper of a question toward her. A small vine of energy, meant only to observe. The answering call from within was only one awareness. One spirit. Hers. The same as it had been when she arrived. 

His contemplation of her inner energy was broken when she lifted herself from the floor on quaking legs. The sound of her breathing catching in her throat echoed in the small room as she crossed to the sofa in the center of the room, running her hands along the soft material on the back. 

“It’s just like I remember it.”

Solas refrained from pointing out that that was because it had been created from her memories. Somehow, he did not think this was quite the time for such an observation. Instead, he rose and walked around the small space. Natalie had crossed to the windows and squinted out to the world beyond with her arms folded over her chest and a stricken look on her face. He did not enjoy seeing her thus. The urge to go to her was too strong to ignore. So he went. He went and he wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward to envelope her with his body and rest his chin on her shoulder. She folded against him, fitting her curves into his valleys like the pieces of a puzzle. 

“It happened right down there.”

“What are you referring to?”

“The night that I was taken to your world. I was at that door right down there, getting out my keys to come inside. A man was waiting in the shadows. I was too distracted to see him.” Natalie took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes briefly before turning her head to look at him. He could feel his chest still as he held his breath. She had never said very much about the attack that had spurred her journey, and he admitted that he wanted to know. 

“He came out of nowhere and grabbed me, dragging me into the alley beside the building. He hit me after I fought him until he had me on the ground and then he stole my wallet. I insulted him and he got angry and shot me.” Her hand came up to rub at a spot on her chest. Solas knew that there was a round puckered scar beneath her clothing there. He had seen it, let his lips trace it in the dark, silvered desert night they had spent together. “All I remember is pain and then a flash of green light in the darkness.”

Solas stared at the strange, smooth stone walkway outside the window. His mind played him a horrific visual of the man who had hurt her and he felt the rage building in the back of his skull. Violence had a purpose. It was a tool to be used when needed. A means to an end. What she described sounded like nothing more than a senseless attack on an innocent person. The need to commit his own act of violence rode him as he thought mulled it over. A vision of her bloodied body in the snow came unbidden to his mind and he pulled her tighter into his chest. How close this man had come to ending her life. How close he had been to never knowing her.

“Do you think the Fade touches more than one world?”

Her question pierced his dark thoughts. It was an interesting concept, one he had considered since her arrival. “I have seen echoes of ancient Arlathan in my many travels in the Fade. The Veil is a construct, something that was created to separate the Fade from the waking world. Once, they were the same. The Elvhen lived with the energy of the Fade flowing through them as easily as breath. To consider that the Fade is a connection into another world would mean that, once, our two civilizations existed alongside one another completely.”

“I think that has to be true. How else would it have been possible for me to be here? Something pierced whatever barrier exists between this world and mine and brought me through.”

“I have given that some thought. The Breach was created by an explosion of magical energy so great that it ripped through the Veil all across Thedas and allowed the Fade to seep through. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that it managed to pierce through the other side to you.”

“But Hale told me that I appeared weeks after the Breach did. What happened in that time? Or was it something other than the Breach that brought me here?”

Solas considered this with no small amount of interest. The points she raised were valid. “I cannot know for sure. I think it is entirely possible that you may have been trapped physically within the Fade for those intervening weeks. The Breach did as much to the Inquisitor, although he escaped again after only a handful of hours.”

“Or maybe time is warped somehow?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. The concept of time manipulation had been a secret project of his since their encounter with the hapless Magister Alexius. “I would be interested in hearing what has been going through your head on the subject.”

She shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. It’s just something I thought about after I heard about Redcliffe. What if time flows differently in my world than it does here? What if it was bent in my journey here and that is what caused the lag in my arrival and the creation of the Breach?”

His mind whirred as he turned her words over in his mind. Yes. It seemed possible that that was the case. Without knowing the nature of this hypothetical barrier between their worlds, it was impossible to know for sure. “I think that sounds entirely plausible. It would answer some questions, were it true.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?”

He felt the rush of new ideas spinning in his head. It all bore further scrutiny and he would have to convince Lady Josephine to send to Val Royeaux for more books from the university. Or, creators forbid, consider the unthinkable idea of requesting that Dorian request materials from the Magisterium. Though it galled him to even entertain the idea of requesting assistance from that pack of scavengers.

Natalie twisted in his arms to face him. He felt the soft press of her curves against his body and it set something deep inside alight. Small hands ran up his chest to loop around his neck. 

“Thank you.” She said, her fingers caressing the skin at the back of his neck. 

He turned to press a soft kiss to the skin on the underside of her arm. “I do not believe I have done much worth your gratitude.”

“This. Making me face this. It was strangely cathartic and I do feel better.” For the first time that day, he spied the familiar brilliant smile that normally crossed her face. It shone into him and warmed the deep parts of his soul. “Ma serannas.”

“Ara melava son’ganem, vhenan. It was time well spent.”

Their faces neared as she pulled his down to meet hers. And he let her. He captured her mouth in a soft, lingering caress. Her lips were so sweet and giving, he felt like he could lose himself in her. Happily. A man drowning without ever missing the air. It warmed him and set his blood to flowing. In his need to hold her close, his hands dropped to the plump mound of her glorious backside. He lifted her from her feet and she wrapped her legs around his hips without prompting. 

He tore his mouth from hers. “Your bed looks very soft and inviting, vhenan.”

Natalie’s eyes were hazy as they widened. “Can we even do that here?”

A surge of ferocious heat spiked through his blood. “Would you like to find out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 90K!!!! I can't freakin believe it.
> 
> Thank so so much to those of you who have been reading. <3 I love all of you.


	29. No Light

Upon further reflection, maybe it had been a poor decision to travel without the army. 

Hot blood pattered and sizzled against her barrier as her companions tore through the demons. The electric green of the rift behind them cast an eerie glow on their faces. It was the third such rift they had come across just today. They seemed to multiply in number the closer they came to the mountains. Natalie could only assume that it was due to the closer proximity to the now-sealed Breach. It stood to reason that they were taking a slightly different path toward Skyhold, with their fewer number able to traverse smaller routes. 

Her fingers ached where they clenched around her staff, the wood sending splinters beneath her fingernails where they dug in. The attack had taken them all by surprise, leaving her little time to separate from the group. There had been barely enough to throw up a quick barrier before the barrage had begun. It took most of her concentration to maintain her own barrier and the one she had cast around Hale. She was grateful that there were three mages in their party, so she did not have to split her focus between too many allies. 

It was a quick fight, but a dirty one. A huge Rage demon sent Varric flying, his back cracking against the boulders nearby, just as Cassandra charged in to deal a swift killing blow. Her sword gleamed red as it entered its molten chest and an unearthly howl split the air. Metallic clashes and the smell of petrichor teased her senses as the group engaged the demons in a furious battle. Balls of energy hit her barrier from one side. Magic rippled across it like the wake of a boat, sending shockwaves across her nerves. With a snarl, she shot a bolt of shrieking lightning out toward the offending wraith. Bright purple streaked the air as it impacted with its chest with surprising ferocity, sending the incorporeal form spiraling back into the ether.

The crack of raw Fade energy thundered in her blood as Hale held the Anchor aloft in his hand. She could feel the pull and stretch of the Veil as it fought back. It felt like the very fabric of the world was being yanked together. It put up a stubborn resistance, fighting the magic in Hale’s hand like a caged animal. But the anchor was stronger. Natalie’s heart flipped in her chest and her stomach jumped to her throat as the Veil folded and popped, the Rift disappearing.

“Well, that was fun.” Varric stood and ran his eyes over Bianca, making sure his precious baby had not sustained any in-flight damage. 

“If only I had known that we were going to have this much fun today, I would have worn my party clothes.” Hale’s voice sounded tired. Brittle. Natalie knew that the anchor made heavy use of his energy. He was going to need a good night’s sleep after today.

Varric snorted. “It’s not a party. If it was, I’d be drunk right now. And I feel very sober.”

“Unfortunately.” Bull hefted his massive axe onto his back. “I’m going to sit in the Rest and black out for a week once we get back to Skyhold.”

“I am sure we have more important things to be doing that drinking.” Cassandra’s nose crinkled as she spoke.

Varric let out an exaggerated gasp. “The lady does jest.”

Cassandra’s eyes rolled back into her head so fast she was surprised that they were even able to face forward again.

Natalie suppressed a grin. Watching Varric needle the Seeker had been one of the joys of this trip. She liked the other woman but her reactions to Varric’s irreverent sense of humor were comical. It was clear the two of them had some kind of history she wasn’t aware of. 

“You are well?” 

Natalie peered up as Solas, who had come to stand beside her. She nodded. “Never better.”

His eyebrow raised. “Indeed.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“I do not know what you are referring to.”

Natalie made a rumbling noise full of doubt deep in her throat. The two of them exchanged a long look from the corners of their eyes before Natalie’s lips curled up into a small smile. 

“I saw your last attack against the wraith. Your control over your magic is starting to get better.”

”I think it is. It’s the first time I have really done much of anything besides healing since the incident with Knight-Captain Rylen and it feels…” She felt at a loss for the words to describe the flow of magic she had felt at her fingertips. “Less like work? I guess.”

“That is positive news. As your skill grows, you will be able to manipulate more energy and command it to accomplish greater feats.”

“And your control must be getting worse. You’ve singed your shirt.” Natalie ran her fingers along the burnt cloth, poking through to stroke the soft skin beneath. She could feel his muscles jump under her touch.

“Yes, well, sometimes in the heat of battle there are casualties.” His eyes flared with a heated glint as he flattened her hand against his abdomen with his own, stilling her fingers.

“If your wardrobe suffers many more casualties, you’ll be walking around naked.”

“It would not be the first time, vhenan.”

Natalie’s eyebrows his her hairline. That was definitely a story she wanted to hear. Before she could ask, Hale’s voice stopped her short. From behind his shoulder, her friend peered at her with a knowing grin and beckoned. 

“Oi! Get your ass on a horse and get moving!” The snapping of his fingers punctuated his shouted words. 

Natalie laughed and waved at him dismissively. “Quit your nagging! We’re coming!” Hale gestured widely to the horses standing in wait before turning away. Still chuckling, Natalie poked her finger into Solas’ warm skin before pulling her hand away. “Don’t think he just saved you from sharing that particular story, sir.”

“Perhaps I could be convinced to demonstrate it for you when we arrive in Skyhold.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

By the time they cleared the narrow, winding pass the last rift had blocked, it was late afternoon. Natalie couldn’t help but think that once they got back to Skyhold, she was never leaving again. All this travel by horse was unbearable. Looking at her companions, the entire group looked a little worse for wear. 

It had been a long trip. 

The party had traveled not fifty feet from the mouth of the pass before a grumbling holler stopped them dead on the path. 

“To arms!” Hale shouted, drawing his long curved blades from the sheaths on his back. The metal sounded a ringing cry as it slid free, glinting in the sunlight. 

Hulking masses detached from the trees to advance on them menacingly. The red crystals sprouting from their twisted, monstrous forms let off a faint glow that colored their skin in shades of red and black. 

Red Templars. 

She had seen them before, in Haven during the attack. At the time, no one had realized what they were. That there was what used to be men inside those broken forms. Would that they could go back to the days before they knew what their enemy had done to these men. 

Despite the prior knowledge, Natalie was not prepared for the horror that greeted her, bound in every gesture they made. Nausea welled up in her throat as she faced them from the rear of their small group. Her companions dismounted and fanned out, ready to meet the enemy. 

All at once, the red wave surged forward. The screech of metal on metal mixed with the crackling snap of magic to meld into a symphony of death in the air. Natalie called forth her barriers, shielding as many of her company as she could. She could feel the tremble deep in her veins, a sure sign that her magic was tired. Driven to help in whatever manner possible, she pushed the weakness deep. Solas would likely scold her later, if he knew how she felt. Reckless. Irresponsible. 

A hulking form drove into Hale’s side as he swung his blades at another. On pure instinct, her hands flew out to cast a bolt of pure lightning to blast the attacking Red Templar away from her friend. It faltered and regained its feet but the delay gave Hale just enough time to turn and drive his daggers deep into its chest. A horrifying squelch turned her stomach as the blades twisted and pulled from the deformed flesh, releasing with them a spray of blackened blood. 

The acrid smell of scorched flesh filled her nose, coating it in a thin, oily film she knew would take hours to disperse. Beings that used to be men screamed in pain, clutching at swiftly weeping wounds but bounding forward all the same. They attacked with mindless determination, even as they were cut down. 

Dimly, Natalie became aware of the ground shaking ever so slightly beneath her feet. She felt her weight shift as it rolled and quaked. 

_ What on earth… _

The air changed. Stilled. The sky suddenly dark above her. She felt the world holding its breath for a brief moment. Like the eye of a storm. Calm but tense and fraught with danger. 

A cry rent the air. “Natalie!”

Her head turned slowly, with difficulty. It was as if the air was made of molasses. Eyes widened as they took in the towering behemoth of blighted black flesh and sharp, jagged red crystal before her. It stood so tall, its form blotted out the sun. Red eyes blazed with madness in its broken lyrium visage. 

Her lungs expanded, filling with air. A scream bubbled up into her throat, choking off any hope of normal breath. Like a tornado, her thoughts swirled in hopeless chaos. Escape. 

Run.

Run.

Run.

Vertebrae ground against each other as grotesque fingers caught her by the throat. Nails cracked and bled as she scratched at the monster’s grip, trying in vain to free her neck from its clutches. Slowly, her feet left the ground. Breath lay trapped in her full lungs. Her chest burned. Water filled her eyes. Natalie worked her jaw open and closed in a desperate attempt to exhale past the stranglehold. 

Hot, fetid breath fanned her skin as the monster roared its pain and anger into her ears. 

With a swing of its massive arm, it swept away the attackers who were bent on freeing her. Dull thudding sounded as flesh met hard ground. Her body swung, her neck cracking at the movement. 

“No!” 

The cry pierced the rapidly darkening day. Blackness hazed the edges of her vision as a strange calm descended upon her mind. 

Red eyes bore into her own, hazy and mad. This was a being who had been tortured. It was nearly unrecognizable in this new form it inhabited. But she was sure it was much like the other. That there was a tortured human residing somewhere within. Color bled away from its face. Red dulling into shades of purple. 

Natalie took her hands from the fingers around her throat and reached toward the dreadful creature before her. A sense of purpose filled her mind. 

The creature’s grip loosened infinitesimally as its eyes stilled and held onto her face. Once mad, now she could see only the pain. Endless seas of pain. He was maddened by it. What was a healer if not a person who could ease pain? Natalie’s palm met the sharp edges of red lyrium cheeks. Uncountable seconds passed as she read its torment in the darkest recesses of the mind. Hidden in the labyrinth of its madness. 

So she turned on the lights. Bright light. Cleansing light. It poured from her and banished the welling night within. It swelled and boiled, burning away the infestation until only the lingering pain of sundered flesh and shredded sanity remained. She felt her spirit flow within the streams of purity, melding into the beast’s tortured body. The torrent quieted, moving from raging typhoon to gently flowing river.

The leviathan stumbled and fell to its knee. Its fingers loosed as her feet met the hard earth below. Beneath the red gaze, unmistakable human eyes blazed through. Deep and brown and grateful. It shuddered and fell, the shattered crystal dissolving until the human form that lurked at its core revealed itself for only seconds before the whole body surrendered itself into the dust. 

Light dimmed and awareness returned. Moisture soaked through the knees of her pants as she fell forward, snowdrifts of glittering crystalline dust pooling against her limbs. 

Long legs appeared before her and strong hands gripped her shoulders. Concerned blue eyes searched her face. 

Natalie became aware of the throbbing in her throat, the stiffness of her muscles. “We have to stop meeting like this.” She croaked, managing a crooked smile in Solas’ direction.

His palms cupped her face as he searched her for any further signs of injury. His manner was stiff and his face looked troubled.

“Solas. I’m fine.” Her vocal chords rasped against one another as she spoke, leaving her voice raw and strained. 

Strings of softly spoken elven words washed over her. She understood not a word of any of it, but his tone was in turns relieved and stern. Natalie was sure that he was cursing her to the hills and back. 

“What,” he managed to choke out, “was that?”

“Mercy.” She whispered. “It was mercy.”

 

* * *

Skyhold looked like heaven as they rode through the gates. The courtyard buzzed with familiar daily activity. Natalie took a deep breath, savoring the fresh mountain air and the somehow comforting smell of leather and stone and the sweet smells drifting from the kitchens. It was such a welcome change from the scorched earth of the desert and the unwashed bodies and stink of horse the permeated traveling.

Which reminded her that she didn’t smell so nice. In fact, she was downright rank. The final days of the trip had been rough, fraught with enemies and rifts. That decision to take a harder, more direct route to the castle had backfired. They had clawed the final miles to Skyhold with weary hearts and minds. Now, her mind was consumed with thoughts of hot baths and her soft, warm bed. It would be a cold day in summer before she willingly crawled into a bedroll on the ground again. 

“Inquisitor!” Josephine called from the upper courtyard, before she hurried down the stairs.

“Ambassador!” Hale returned her greeting, a warm smile on his face. Natalie knew from their conversation that Hale found the Antivan woman vastly amusing. 

Josephine reached them in record time. Her neatly coiffed dark hair shined in the warm mid-afternoon sunlight. “I need you to come to my office as soon as you have a moment.”

“Josie, I just got here. Can it wait?”

“I’m not sure. I guess if the political stability of Orlais is not a concern to you then yes, it can.”

Hale let out a long sigh and shoved his fingers back through his hair. “Fine. Let me take my bags to my rooms and I will meet you.”

All the air seemed to be sucked out of him as he slouched forward over his horses neck. Natalie pitied him. Adamant had taken something from Hale. There was a dimness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It had taken a little something from each of them.

He slid from the back of his horse with heavy limbs to follow Josephine while the rest of the party dismounted and scattered like fallen leaves. Solas cast a searching gaze at her over his shoulder but she waved him on. Undoubtedly, he was as tired and in need of a bath as she was. She had found herself avoiding him somewhat the past few days since the incident with the Behemoth, as much as you could avoid someone in a small traveling party. It was clear that he had many questions. And it was also clear that all of them were better discussed in privacy.

Not that she had any answers. She had no idea what had happened. Only that it had. 

She drug her weary bones and Daisy’s reins to the stables to turn her beleaguered horse over to the stablehands. They eyed her disapprovingly as they surveyed her poor mare’s muddy condition but she returned their pointed glares just as heatedly as she patted Daisy’s neck and whispered goodbyes. They had started this journey an unlikely pair but, somewhere along the way, had forged something of a bond. 

That didn’t mean she was going to miss being on horseback all day every day. 

Not. At. All. 

Dragging her saddlebags beside her, Natalie trudged up the long stairs into the upper courtyard. Her mind couldn’t contemplate much past the sound of her feet on the cobblestone as she crossed the Great Hall into the gardens. The slap of her boots on stone echoed up the stairwell as she climbed, her shoulders seeming to settle closer to the floor with each footfall. 

She was so damn tired. 

Her door loomed in her vision, the worn wood looking for all the world like the pearly gates of heaven. Throwing them open, she swanned into the room. Saddlebags and outer clothing fell across the floor in a lazy sprawl as she made for the bed, divesting herself of everything easy to remove on her way. The feather mattress was like a cloud beneath her cheek as she flopped face-first into it. This. This is what she had been missing these past months. With a groan, Natalie buried herself into the blankets. She would just lay here for a few minutes. Then she would unpack her bags.

Just a few. 

A sharp knock roused her out of a deep sleep. Her head felt muzzy as it left the pillow, momentarily confused about the noise that had barged into her quickly forgotten dream. Where was she? If the darkened room wasn’t a clue, then the soft bed beneath her was. That was right. Skyhold. Finally.

Another soft knock interrupted her, clearing the fog of disturbed sleep from her mind. Natalie groaned as she lifted her abused body from the bed and padded to the door. The hinges squealed as she opened it to find one of the serving women accompanied by several men carrying a large tub.

A bath. Sweet baby jesus, that was amazing. 

“I was told to bring this up here so you could bathe after your travels.”

Natalie nodded vigorously as she stepped aside to let them into the room. “Absolutely. You set that up anywhere you want.” The thought of submerging herself in the warm water. Of being  _ clean _ . It had her all aquiver inside. Practically salivating. 

The men set up the tub and filled it with steaming buckets until the water licked the brim and taunted her like the brightly wrapped presents on Christmas morning. The soldiers nodded to her as they left, taking the buckets with them. The young serving woman bowed to her as she closed the door, promising to come back if Natalie needed anything. 

She barely heard the click of the handle before she was stripping off her boots. There were too many clothes left and she needed to be in that water. Stat. Belts and straps were pulled free and strewn across the floor. Not for the first time, she lamented the sheer amount of clothing worn by people here. Now that they were back, she could go back to something simpler.

Natalie had just reached the ties of her leggings when there was another knock at the door. Probably the woman who had brought the tub again. 

“Come in!” She called, anxious for the encounter to be over so she could soak off months of sand and dirt. 

But it wasn’t a the woman. It wasn’t a woman at all. 

Solas stepped into the room, stripped down to the soft clothing he wore beneath his armor. His eyes locked onto her as the door clicked back into place softly behind him. 

“Inviting anyone who knocks into your rooms seems like an inadvisable habit.”

Natalie pressed her lips together. “I thought you were the lady who brought the tub.”

“Alas, no.” He leaned back against the closed door, crossing his ankles over one another. “I thought we could have a chance to talk. You have been avoiding me for several days.”

She had the decency to feel chagrined at his words. “I just didn’t know the answers to the questions I know you’re going to ask.”

“And what are those questions, may I ask?”

An exasperated sigh left her lips. “I don’t know. How I took down that monster on my own? If it was the spirit again? What happened?”

“Was it the spirit?”

She chewed her lips and cast him a half-hearted glare. “I just told you I don’t know. If it was, I didn’t see her.”

“Did she speak to you?”

“No. I didn’t hear anyone else.” Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think I even knew what I was doing. It just… happened.” She finished lamely. 

His fingers tapped against his lips as his eyes took on a faraway look. A deep, rumbling noise came from his throat as he mulled over her words. “I admit that I watched you on the remainder of the journey. I saw no evidence that you have been possessed.”

“Then that was just me?”

“It pains me to admit that I do not know. It bears some study, however.”

Nothing about that sounded very encouraging. The two of them simply watched each other for long moments. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her and it made a tremor shudder through her belly. They were finally, truly alone. 

Solas pushed his body away from the door and stalked across the floor to her like a great predator, his eyes locked onto her throat. His tall form dwarfed her as he looked down at her. His long fingers rose slowly and trembled slightly as they traced the florid bruises along her throat. 

“It would have killed you.”

She swallowed. “Yes.” His fingers brushed gently across her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Her body leaned into his, her softly exhaled breath her only answer. 

“Were that we lived in another life and did not face such peril.”

“You forget that I had another life and I still almost died.” Her hand raised to cover the fingers against her neck. “Maybe it’s just me.”

He grunted softly, a tiny huff of breath in his throat. “Perhaps it is.”

Natalie closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest and his arms came around to hold her there. Moments ticked by as they stood in silence, feeling the heat of the other. 

“My bath water is getting cold.” She mumbled against his tunic.

“We cannot allow that to happen.”

Natalie chuckled and pulled away, her hands floating to the hem of her shirt. “No, we can’t.” 

Fabric whispered as it hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Sorry for the delay here, guys. I got a promotion at work and shit has been real. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to all of you for reading! I love and appreciate all of you so much. <3


	30. Hallucinate

The night was quieter than any she had ever heard in the city. A pervasive sort of stillness that filled her gut with hollow emptiness. Dark outlines of buildings loomed on either side, their forms stretched and surreal. Sentinels trapping her within a brick and mortar cage. Watery light from the wavering streetlamps pooled across the pavement, casting the shadows in stark relief. Blackness lurked in the spaces between, deep and wretched and endless.

Her head swiveled, left to right and back again, trying to orient herself. The deserted street beyond the lights stretched as far as she could see in either direction. Flickers of light blinked at even intervals meandering beyond the horizon in a never-ending chain. It all seemed unfamiliar. There were no street signs. No alleyways. No cross streets. Her heart thumped hard in her chest.

She took a few steps down the cracked and pitted sidewalk, feet falling beside the sprouts of green struggling up amidst the concrete. Somewhere, there would be a way out. If only she could find it. Distance passed, the houses flowing past her. But all around was simply stillness.

It was then that she realized that the night was not only quiet, but silent. No wind. No crickets or voices or cars passing down nearby streets. Breath caught beneath a lump in her throat, stilling her lungs as they paused still pregnant with air. Silence. Oppressive in its absoluteness. The blood thrummed through her veins as she felt the first twinges of fear hit her brain.

Her pace quickened, feet falling hard against the pavement. But there was no slap of rubber. No rhythm of her shoes on the ground. She snapped her fingers together, the skin catching and sliding. No pop as her middle finger met the meat at the base of her thumb. Her mouth yawned open, air pushed forth to meet the lips and tongue that formed the instinctive shapes. Her words held no power in the air that night. They floated away, lost into obscurity.

Eyes searched the shadows for a break in the brick as her steps became a run. Air puffed out of her nose and mouth as her limbs pumped, propelling her forward. The buildings filed past at an ever increasing pace, one blending into another. The streetlamps flooded the edges of her vision, their light scattering into hastily scribbled drawings on the ground. Her chest burned with the effort to maintain her pace.

A planter caught her short. It was gray stone, filled with unkempt bramble that poured over it’s edges onto the street. The same planter sat before the next house and the next and the next. Her head spun as she swirled around, taking in the rows of dark red doors. The identical lines of casement windows that peered out at her with foreboding eyes. The high peaked roofline that was cloned and stamped one after the other after the other. Not buildings. Building. Now that she had seen it, her eyes were open. This was no endless line.

She dashed up to one of the doors, hands closing around cold, brass handle. The handle stayed stationary as she twisted, the sweat on her palms leaving streaks on the shining metal. Gathering herself, she rammed her shoulder against the door. Shockwaves of impact spread through her upper body, rattling her teeth in her head. The wood did not budge. It remained ever vigilant under her onslaught. She could feel a laugh bubbling up in her chest, hysteria blurring the edges of her thoughts. She had to get out of here.

Hopping on one foot, she over-balanced as she gripped the worn rubber and mesh of her sturdy running shoes. With some trouble and several near misses, she yanked the shoe from her foot and hurled it at the window nearest the door. Instead of the glittering shards of glass she had expected, the shoe bounced and fell to the ground. With a silent scream of rage clawing its way from her throat, she removed the other one and cocked her arm back. Muscles bunched and coiled along her arm and shoulder as she drew back and launched the second one at the pane of glass. Again, it bounced and fell harmlessly onto the ground.

Impossible.

With strength born of rage and fear, she gripped the planter and hefted it from the ground. It was old and heavy and released from its resting place with a great strain. She panted as she wrapped her arms around it and lifted it onto one shoulder. Expelling all her energy into the throw, she heaved the mass of stone and dirt at the facade of the house. The ancient concrete pot split and shattered, sending a flurry of vines and detritus flying through the air.

Strangled breath released in a harsh torrent from her throat as she stared in disbelief at the still-whole window in the wake of her attack.

She had to get out of here. She had to get out now. And then she was running. Running like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. The postage stamp houses blurred into streaks of color and darkness. Perhaps if she ran far enough, she could find the edge of this infernal prison.

Far ahead, her eye caught a dark shape in one of the pools of light beneath the streetlamps. The sudden flaw in the perfect circuit was jarring. Slowing her pace, she approached the heap with a pounding heart. Something new meant it was possible for this place to change, which could mean a way out.

What was it? The heap on the ground could be anything. It appeared to be nothing more than a pile of discarded garbage bags, but it had to have some meaning. It would not be here if that were not the case.

She crept closer, a deep pit of dread welling in her stomach. The small hairs along her arms stood on end. Something was not right here. A metallic tang hung in the air. A smell she knew. A smell she wished she didn’t. Every muscle in her body tensed as she approached the shape. The streetlamp cast layers of bright highlight and deep shadow, rendering the prone form into planes and angles. It glittered off of the dark, seeping pool beneath it.

Her fingers shook as they reached for a still shoulder. She knew that there was little chance that someone could survive losing as much blood as there was soaking into the ground. But if there was a chance she could help, she had to take it. Perhaps she could shake them awake. A little poke. A shake. A nudge. The form stayed still. Steeling her resolve, her hand wrapped around the stiff shoulder and pulled.

The small form shook, rocking back and then forward to lay where it had before. She pulled again. This time, the body rolled, falling with a wet thud on its back against the sidewalk. Her sharp intake of breath caught in her throat as she stared in horror at the pale, bloodied face before her. Large, deep green eyes stared sightlessly at the sky. Glassy and devoid of life. Bruises colored one cheekbone. Blood splattered the pale skin and soaked through the pale blue cotton shirt that covered her torso. Snaking tendrils of dark hair soaked in deep crimson escaped from the messily tied mass atop her head.

Pressure built in her chest. Horrible, burning pressure. It swelled her throat and blanked her mind as the deep welling hole in the corpse’s chest filled her vision. She scrambled backward, her nails catching on the rough pavement. A sting burned along the bottom of one of her bare feet. The mass in her chest rose like bile in her throat before erupting from her mouth into a wailing scream.

The sound pierced the dead silence like an air raid siren. Shrill and high and terrified. Mouth open rigid and immobile, air tore through her like shards of glass. Her clenched fists pressed against her chest as she tried in vain to still her pounding heart.

Her. It was her. She looked down at the same pale blue shirt. The same loose fitting pants. The same dark locks liberating themselves from her upswept hair.

Oh god, it was her.

Her feet kicked against the ground as she crawled away, trying to gain enough purchase to lift herself from the ground. Wet warmth streamed down her cheeks.

Deep laughter rolled like thunder from the shadows. Twin voices raising in harmony to turn her blood to ice. Slices of black pulled away from the fathomless spaces between the nearby buildings and coalesced into identical forms in deep black robes. Red eyes full of swirling madness stared at her from behind skeletal masks. They glided toward her as if their feet no longer met the ground, ethereal and terrible.

Run.

Run. Run. Run.

The blood pounded in her ears as she darted to her feet and took off down the street, back the way she had come. Laughter followed her. Insane, pealing laughter. She was sure that these black-swathed monsters would cheerfully wear her skull as a mask next. They could not catch her. She would not let them.

Each snarl and bark sounded closer to her ears as her legs pumped harder than she had ever forced them to. The buildings with their matching doors flew past her in a harried swirl. She had to get away. There had to be somewhere else to go. Her muscles clenched and cramped, weakening. Her pace slowed even as her heart beat faster and faster. Too much running. She couldn’t go on much longer.

A blast of bright purple light seared into her eye from just ahead of her. Gasps tumbled from her lips as she skidded to a stop before it, shielding her face with her arm.

“Come.” A lilting voice called. “Hurry.”

Slender fingers materialized into view just out of reach.

The maniacal laughter of her pursuers filtered closer and closer. She could almost feel their skeletal fingers in her mind. Her hand wavered as it reached out. It could be a trick. This bright figure could be just as horrendous as the ones that chased her.

“You don’t have much time.”

Fuck it. There was nothing left to lose. Her face burned in the heat of the brilliant light as she stepped forward and grasped the hand.

Shockwaves rushed through her bones.  She was lighter than air. A mote of dust. A spark of light. A whisp of smoke on a moonless night. Weightless and intangible. She felt her feet lift from the street. A wordless howl of thwarted rage shredded the night air as she was lifted higher and higher. The sweet relief of triumph swam in her veins. Almost there.

The glowing eyes above her widened in alarm. There was no time to react before strong fingers wrapped around her ankles. Long, pointed nails dug deep. Warmth spilled down her ankle to drip from her bare toes. Pain spiked up her legs as the howling predators tried to drag her down. Her glowing savior held fast, pulling her ever skyward even as the claws below rent flesh from bone.

Agonized screams ripped from her throat as she felt them dig into the muscles and rip it away. Blackness hazed the edges of her vision as waves of pain washed over her. The joints in her knees and ankles popped and flexed, stretching under the strain of the bodies yanking her toward the ground. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks as she sobbed in pain and fear.

A hard pull at her feet.

The grip around her wrists slipped.

She couldn’t hold on.

And she was falling.

There was only pain.

 

* * *

 

Natalie woke panting, tangled in her sweat-soaked sheets as she bolted upright. Deranged laughter still echoed in her mind. Where were they? Her heart pounded so loud that she thought perhaps they could hear it clear in the army camps below the fortress. Panting breaths rocked her body as salty tears streamed down her face.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders. With a hoarse scream, her hands lashed out. No one was going to grab her again. She fought like a wild thing, a caged animal, until the hands withdrew.

“Hush, vhenan. You are safe.”

Startled, she opened her eyes to find Solas before her. Sleep still blurred the lines between dream and reality. It was hard to parse everything that had just happened. Was he real?

“You are safe.” His voice was soft with a hint of sleepy huskiness. It felt like an anchor to the real world. A lifeline.

Solas’ face wavered in the light of a single candle that guttered on her desk. “Just look at me.”

His beloved face was smooth and calm, filling her vision. Blue eyes danced with shadows and light. “Focus on my face and relax.”

The breath that had been caught in her throat released. The room came into hazy focus through the veil of water in her eyes. Familiar sheets, familiar walls, and a familiar face. She was in her room at Skyhold.

A dream. It had all been a dream.

Her muscles crumpled as all the pent up tension released from her body. His body felt warm and solid beneath her as she fell against his chest. “Oh god.”

He made a quiet shushing noise while his arms encircled her. Fingers rubbed soft circles on her shaking back. “You are here. This is real.”

Great shuddering sobs tore from her throat as all the terror drained from her like a lanced wound. It poured from her eyes. Her nose. Her mouth. It left her dried up. Wrung out. Exhausted. But too keyed up to go back to sleep.

“It cannot harm you here.” His words soothed her nerves, his soft lilting voice a bright star in a dark world

“It felt so real.” She whispered, choking the words out past the raw flesh in her throat.

“I know.” His hands continued their soothing journey across her back and arms. “I will not press you to tell me what you saw. But if it would soothe you to do so, I will listen.”

Natalie shook her head, her cheek rocking against the smooth, bare skin on his chest. “I can’t.”

“I understand.”

Long minutes passed as her gasps faded into tired hiccups and the tears dried on her cheeks. He held her, strong and steady as the earth, until she quieted. The soft flickering light of the lone candle flame wreathed the two of them in its warm halo. It made the world feel small, like it was contained to just these moments. Just the two of them cocooned in her bed.

Gradually, she raised the energy to lift her head to look at him. His eyes shone warm in the soft light, a small smile playing across his features. The long, pointed ears that had once seemed so alien cast shadows across his angular features.

“Thank you.” She breathed the words with a grateful heart. What would have happened if she had woken alone? Natalie did not want to give that scenario much thought. It seemed far too lonely to her.

“I did nothing worth your gratitude.” He raises his hand to run the backs of his fingers along her cheekbone.

The corner of her mouth quirked. “You can believe that, but simply being here is enough.”

A dark shadow passed across his eyes, fleeting but distinct. One she had seen before. His mouth opened as he started to say something, but quickly stopped himself short. “It is my wish that I could always be that for you.” He said finally.

Her quaking fingers brought his face to hers and she pressed a soft, sad kiss to his lips. They were warm beneath hers, quickly folding into the embrace like it was the last breath of a drowning man. Arms pulled her to his chest as he deepened their kiss, pushing aside reason for lips and teeth and tongue. There was no more room for haunting dreams, or sad eyes, or double-sided words as their breaths mingled into one. She pulled him down, limbs and sheets and emotions tangled into knots as he kissed her senseless.

And she never wanted to think straight again.

His touch rolled like thunder through her, and she sat within it. Let it change her. Let it transform her into something else. Something more.

When they parted, she felt his breath like whispers dusting her skin. “This is real.”

Her hands came up to stroke his face. “It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Guys, we're one chapter away from 100k words! WHAT?! How the hell did that happen? I have so many plans... 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!


	31. Dots & Lines

Natalie had thought Josephine’s words to Hale as they returned to Skyhold were something of an exaggeration. They weren’t. He pulled her into the upper level of the Herald’s Rest the following day with a flurry of news.

“What, seriously? You’re going to a ball to stop someone from assassinating the Empress of Orlais?” Natalie stared at Hale face in front of her, the bustle of the tavern below creating a buzz beneath their words.

“Yeah.” Hale let loose a bark of humorless laughter. “Isn’t that hilarious? A Dalish elf returning the place where the Chantry fractured my people and stole our heritage, to save the life of a woman who allowed the burning of an Alienage and the slaughter of thousands of elves, and spend a night surrounded by nobles who would cheerfully enslave us again if they were given half a chance.”

Natalie’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Yeah, I can see how that would be hard to stomach.”

“It’s either this, or we put her war-mongering cousin who is more concerned with his own power than the threat of an ancient evil enslaving all of Thedas to his will on the throne. So many choices!” Hale threw his hands up in the air before grasping his ale and drinking deeply.

She opened her mouth to speak but clamped it shut again, thoughts warring with each other over how to respond to him. There was not really a leg to stand on for her to give him any kind of advice on this. “I’m sorry.” She said, finally.

“Why? Not your fault.” He peered at her over the edge of his mug.

“It’s a tough choice. I can see how it seems like a lose-lose for you. I was just… I don’t know, acknowledging that.”

“Keeping Celene on the throne does make the most sense, I guess.” Hale sighed. “Can’t be helped! The sooner we go, the sooner it's all over with.”

‘Well then get your ass moving, so you can come back.” Natalie flashed him a crooked smile. “Maybe one day you will get to spend a solid month sleeping in that huge bed Josephine ordered for you.”

“Perish the thought. I don’t think I could sleep a wink without a rock in my back, at this point.”

“Ah, yes. The simple joys of life on the road. I, for one, have no plans to sleep anywhere but on a mattress anytime soon.”

“Oh, you’re still using a mattress? And here I thought you had found something a little more elven to sleep on.”

It was unfortunate that Natalie has chosen just that moment to take a drink of her ale. Unfortunate for Hale, since he ended up wearing it. “Jesus, Hale.”

He burst into laughter, even as he pulled a handkerchief from the front of his tunic to wipe his damp face. “Worth it.”

Natalie watched him with fond eyes. “You’re so lucky I put up with you.”

“You love me and you know it.” He shot back.

“You’re like the annoying little brother I never had.”

His eyes narrowed as he smirked at her. “Natalie, I’m older than you.”

She shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Then start acting like it.”

“Never.” He bark of laughter was dry and brittle. “Being ridiculous is the only way I can stay sane through all this.”

Natalie felt her heart soften as she reached out a hand to cover the one still clenched around his damp handkerchief. His eyes met hers for a long moment, shadows playing across their green depths for a split second before he forced another smile across his face.

“S’fine.” He patted her hand before brushing it away.

She quietly withdrew her proffered hand, grasping the mug in front of her. “So, how do you plan to scandalize the Orlesian court while you’re there?”

A spark lit deep in his eyes as a grin slowly unfurled across his face. “Well, Dorian thinks that we should...”

 

* * *

 

Hale rode out on a drizzling winter morning with a full half of the leadership of the Inquisition in tow. His choices had been strategic, although she doubted they were made solely by him. Dorian. Vivienne. Cassandra. All born into wealthy families. All well-versed in the art of mingling with the upper crust. To make up for the fact that their Inquisitor was a Dalish Elf, he said. It was disheartening that good, old-fashioned racism seemed to be a universal problem.

The sight of his back retreating down the trail that wound down from the gates and through the vast encampment that dominated the valley beneath the hold left her with a hollow in her chest and a desperate hope that he didn’t get himself killed this time around. In the times that had come before, she had been secure in her blissful ignorance of just how dangerous the world outside these walls was. Now she knew. Now she feared for him.

Time took on a hazy quality in those first days back in Skyhold. Life sped past, yet seemed to stand still at the same time. With Hale and the advisors gone, people seemed a little lost. Ravens flew back and forth, carrying packets of instructions to keep things running in their absence.

Natalie found herself absorbed in the familiar drudgery of clinic work. She spent her days taking vitals and organizing supplies and playing cards with the occasional patient. After everything that had transpired in the desert, it was a welcome change. It was a relief to simply let herself follow someone else’s commands. No more death or demons or friends lost in the Fade. At least for now.

Peace. At last. But it was a tense sort of peace. More of a stalemate, really. The entire fortress seemed to be holding its breath.

Waiting.

Watching.

In her spare time, she perched herself on the lone sofa in the rotunda and read. Or attempted to, at least. She found that her eyes more often wandered to the tall figure that always seemed capable of distracting her, no matter how interesting the material in front of her. They existed beside each other in shades of stillness and silence. Heated debate and passionate embrace. Uncertainty and assurance. There had been no discussion about what they were doing or who they were to each other. It seemed like enough to simply be.

Solas told her stories of history and adventure.They discussed the nature of the Fade, falling into heated debate as she wielded science like a blade to poke holes in his theories. She found herself purposefully playing devil’s advocate, just to watch his face flush and his eyes sparkle with keen intellect as he explained all the ways she was wrong. He would rail on and on until she would laugh and press her lips to his to silence them. Hours passed as he let her peel away at the layers he kept himself hidden beneath. It was obvious that there was something below that he still buried too deep to find. Some kind of secret that he was not yet willing to make her party to. But she could wait. Eventually, he would pull away the last of the curtains and let her see.

And at the end of the day, she would let him take her back to her room and peel away some entirely different layers.

It was a quiet morning with a gentle flurry of snow falling outside her window when she found herself shooed from the infirmary. There were far too many hands today and too little work to justify everyone just standing around. Mother Giselle pushed her out the door with promises to send someone to fetch her if the sky started falling. So she stood in the courtyard, letting the cold flakes fall across her skin. Basking in the feel of clean, fresh air of the early morning on her face.

Hurrying across the softly accumulating powder, she made for her room to grab the book she had been reading the night before. It was a collection of myths and legends from across Thedas, both interesting and terrifying but also necessary. She had not found it in herself to share the terrible nightmares that had been plaguing her of late. And Solas had not pushed her to, even though he had to be curious after seeing her wake sweating each night. There was a fierce determination in her to figure out who or what the skeleton-faced monsters that stalked her dreams were supposed to be. Even if she examined her motives closely, she did not think she could say why she kept it from him. It was a strange compulsion, this need to keep it close to her chest.

Night after night, it was the same. The clone stamped houses. The bloodied corpse in the street. The black-robed figures chasing her through the darkness. It was maddening, but she found herself more aware that this dream meant something. Her subconscious was obviously jumping up and down screaming about how dense she was. If only she could figure out what it wanted.

Snagging the book from her desk, her feet made to carry her to the familiar sofa, only to stop dead in the doorway. Solas stood atop the quaking scaffolding, his long fingers spreading red chalk across the rough plaster wall in bold strokes. His hands captivated her as they summoned images from his mind and sketched them onto the stone, confidence radiating from him like sunshine. Butterflies fluttered to life in her stomach as she watched him, warm wings beating against her insides.

Minutes ticked by as she leaned there against the wall, soaking it all in. Gradually the red lines wove into a fierce mural of diagonally slashing lines. A shield. The outline of a castle. Concentric circles floating in the spaces over jagged peaks. It would be just as fierce and as striking as all the others.

Solas stepped away to survey his handiwork upon the wall, his red-stained fingers resting upon his hips as he studied the lines with quiet concentration. “You are welcome to come in and sit.” His voice startled her from her thoughts. Blue eyes watched her from over his shoulder.

Warmth settled in her cheeks. How long had she stood there gawking at him? “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Now is the time, if you must. Once the pigments are being laid, I am afraid I will take an interruption far more poorly.”

“Are you saying that you get cranky when you paint?” She teased as she crossed over to sit on the sofa she now considered hers.

“I do not get ‘cranky.’” He groused.

“Aww, that sounded awfully cranky to me.” Natalie settled back with her book, sparing him not a glance as she found her place.

The sound of his huff made a her snort as her eyes traced the words on the page. Quiet shuffling filled the space between them as he moved softly around the room. Glass clinked and rattled as he set out jars along the floor, filling them with water. A knife scraped along earthenware as he poured and mixed powders and liquid. Her eyes followed his form over the spine of her book.

“So you paint on top of the wet plaster?”

“Indeed. The marriage of pigment and plaster is what creates the images.” He did not look up as he mixed the thick sludge in the bowl. “It is an art nearly lost to modern day but once common on the walls of ancient Arlathan.”

“They’re beautiful.” Her eyes flowed over the striking murals that already covered a good portion of the curving walls. “I’m excited to see what this one will look like.”

A ghost of a smile quirked the edges of his mouth, not quite there and quickly gone again. “Your curious spirit will just have to learn patience.”

“I waited months for you to finally let me throw myself at you. I think I’ll live.”

His hands stilled on the trowel. “Is that so?”

“You know that’s true.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps I should have sooner, then.”

Natalie shrugged, eyes still firmly on the page in front her. “Maybe you should have. We’ll never know.”

She missed the whisper of his feet on the floor as he crossed the room, startling as his tall shadow fell across her book. Pine and spice filled her senses as he leaned over her, caging her against the back of sofa with his long arms. Beating wings filled her belly once more as their eyes met. His sparked with heated promise. “Well, we shall just have to make sure to make good use of our time now, then.” He made a humming noise deep in his throat as his mouth descended on hers, capturing her lips in a swift kiss. Teeth nipped at her bottom lip, hard and hungry, as his mouth moved over hers.

It ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving her breathless and warm. “Patience.” The word smoothed over her skin like velvet. “Now, I must get back to my task. The plasterwork cannot be kept waiting.” He straightened casually, sauntering back to his paints as if he had not just kissed her senseless. “You are welcome to stay, as long as you do not interrupt.”

Her head still buzzed as she watched him begin to smooth the gray paste across the walls, thoroughly entranced by his graceful limbs. He moved like a dancer, the muscles in his arms and back bunching and stretching in the most delicious sort of way. Natalie could not help but feel the heat swelling uncomfortably beneath her clothing.

_Damn him._

With a restless huff, she left him to his painting and went in search of something to soothe her frazzled edges before he drove her fully crazy. Like a quick jump into the nearest snowbank.

Natalie returned hours later with a tray of dinner and wine to find him still perched atop the scaffolding, his lean form hunched over as he squinted at some tiny detail he was inscribing upon the wall. In her absence, swaths of color had taken over the dull gray plaster he had been busily applying. The forms of Adamant Keep and a Gray Warden shield she had seen in his sketch earlier now clearly visible in his boldly painted lines.

Steadying the glasses with a free hand so they didn’t clink together, she edged the tray onto the desk in the center of the room before abandoning it to resume her vigil on the sofa. She was surprised to see him still at it after so much time.

She draped her chest over the arm of the couch, resting her head in the crook of her elbow, and watched his fevered intensity as he painted what appeared to be the last of this portion of his ever-growing masterpiece. Bold red shown like a pool of blood against the shades of green and black surrounding it.

_The Fade._ It had to be.

He grunted in displeasure as he twirled a long-handled paintbrush between two of is fingers, his face contorted into a rictus of single minded concentration. Natalie wasn’t sure he had even registered that she had come into the room. He continued on for a time before the lines swirling from his brush blurred and bled together as her eyelids grew heavy. It had been a long day, and the soft swish of sable hair on rough plaster lulled her into the Fade’s dark embrace.

A rough scratching roused her, nagging at her mind until her heavy lids parted. She gazed blearily around, searching for an explanation. Her weary mind unable to comprehend what could possibly be making such a noise. It continued, drifting to her ears from somewhere off to her side. Lifting a languid hand, she rubbed at her gritty eyes as she forced them open.

The noise emanated from Solas. His long form sat in a chair not five feet away, wrapped around a thick journal as his hands moved a stick of red chalk across the page. Blue eyes burned into her as they considered her, sliding over the curve of a shoulder. The fall of her hair. The line of her hip as it met her thigh. They caressed her body, stripping her down into component parts and leaving her feeling light-headed. The effect he had on her was powerful, intoxicating. Addictive.

A pale flush colored his cheeks, likely courtesy of the empty wine goblet that sat with the equally empty on the floor beneath his chair. His parted lips quivered slightly with every breath. The desire to lick that trembling lip pulled her forward, body leaning toward him like he was the sweet breath of air after diving underwater.

“Be still.” He whispered, his voice husky and rough.

No force on earth could have swayed her. Her muscles froze, breath catching in her throat as the heat rose up her chest and neck to color her skin rosy pink under his scrutiny. The last dregs of sleep cleared from her hazy mind as she locked her eyes upon his face.

His fingers smoothed across the paper, the tips skimming the page with tender care. Wrinkles formed between the wings of his brows as he paused, staring at the page before him. Shoulders rose and fell as he drew a shaking breath and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“Can I see it?” Her voice came out hushed and breathy.

After a long moment, he simply nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.

Feet met the floor and carried her to him before she was really aware of what she was doing. The warmth of his body bled into her skin as she leaned over his shoulder, resting her cheek alongside his.

Then there was only her. She leapt from the paper, depicted in shades of pink and red against the creamy parchment. He had rendered her from flesh into art so easily. Eyes half-lidded and swirling with unshared secrets. Lips curving into a laughing smile that spoke of an infinite jest shared with no one else. Limbs open and welcoming. The woman staring back at her from the page was a beautiful enigma.

Was this how he saw her?

A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding left her lungs in a rush, her fingers gripping his arms as she leaned into him. Paper and chalk clattered to the floor as his hands gripped her to draw her around into his lap, his mouth claiming hers in a hurried, desperate embrace. They tore into each other in ravenous hunger as she straddled his legs, her hands twining their way around his neck and shoulders. Fingers wound into the loose strands of her hair, crushing her to him.

Two bodies crashed into each other, a straining tangle of limbs as they fought their way to the other. To brush away all that remained to separate them. Greedy lips and questing fingers roved the canvas of the other’s skin, sketching the outline of their journey. Her feet left the floor as he swept her up and away. The soft thud and rustle of falling books echoed around the room as he swept the desk in the center clear to lay her upon it.

Harsh breaths dragged from her chest as their eyes met and held, twin flames burning into her and leaving her to smolder. With a ragged exhale, he fell upon her. Hands grasped and pulled, sending her simple clothing fluttering to the floor to join the trail of books and paper. His lips followed his fingers progress, leaving watercolor flowers on her skin. Along her neck. Across her chest. Down her stomach.

Down. Down. Down.

When he pressed his mouth to the wet heat at her center, her back arched from the unyielding wood beneath her and a strangled gasp escaped her mouth. Licking flames spread from where he knelt to engulf her slowly, devouring her in creeping waves.

It was not enough. She needed more. Needed it all.

“I need you.” She gasped, hands plucking at his shoulders. “Please.”

“Tell me, vhenan. Tell me what you need.” His words trailed over her skin before he fell upon her with renewed effort.

The muscles in her stomach clenched as her nails dug into his skin, leaving constellations of half-moons in their wake. “I need…” Her thoughts scattered beneath the force of a strangled moan as he latched onto her clit. “Fuck me.”

A dark chuckle rolled from his chest as he moved away from her to strip his tunic off, letting it fall away. Shadows crept into his sleepy eyes as he grasped her hips to pull her toward the edge of the desktop, his fingers lingering to tease her swollen flesh as she squirmed beneath him. Her head hit the wood as it snapped back, the shuddering resonance of a long moan scraping from her throat as he drove into her.

Natalie was awash in the bolts of sensation that flashed through her. He moved within her like a summer storm, the thunderclouds hitting her in a torrent of rolling lightning that left her toes curling into the hard muscles of his thighs. Their hands made masterpieces of each other, painting curve and hollow with the dragging scrape of fingers on skin.

The delicious stretch of him left her gasping as he burrowed deeper and deeper with every press and retreat. Her seams pulled and threatened to fly apart as his hand thrust to where their bodies met to tease and press. She could feel the oncoming surge building low in her belly, growing and swelling and threatening to overwhelm her completely. His mouth claimed hers as his body leaned down low, pinning her firmly.

With a final hard thrust, the dam burst and the force of her release washed over her. It carried her away. Adeep, wringing moan resonated from her chest. All the little muscles in her thighs shook and quivered, holding him deep within. His answering growl was nearly animalistic in its intensity as he stiffened above her. Their eyes locked as they rode out the last shuddering ripples together.

Natalie felt all the tension leave her muscles as he fell heavy atop her, their sweat soaked bodies sliding against each other as they gasped for breath. Solas spread exhausted kisses along her collarbones, murmuring unintelligible words on her skin. In the misty afterglow, she found herself wishing with a fervent plea that they could continue on this way forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little smut to celebrate 100k words! 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me through all of my rambling bullshit. There is more of this story to tell and I'm not planning to stop until it's told. Thank you all for reading, for enjoying, for leaving comments and kudos and encouragement. I appreciate all of you. <3


	32. Across the Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a few snippets of dialogue from the game. Just a disclaimer.

There was chaos in the Great Hall. From her vantage point near the great wooden doors, Natalie could feel the cool breeze filtering in from outside. It cooled her back even as the stifling press of too many bodies warmed her front. The scent of perfume with a hefty undercurrent of sweat and horse weighed the already stuffy air even further. Her feet itched with the need to slip outside, hide from the overwhelming energy in the room.

Hale presided over the crowd with deceptive calm from his perch on the great red velvet throne that dominated the far end of the room. One long leg lay draped over the golden arm of his chair as he reclined, lazy and insolent before the crush of Orlesian nobles. His eyes burned beneath somnolent lids, belying his relaxed posture.

His statement was not lost on those around her. She could hear the angry whispers that passed between the members of the crowd as she leaned back against the rough stone wall, arms crossed over her chest.

Their party had returned from Val Royeaux only a few days prior and Hale had been in a state of near-constant irritation since. The whole sordid tale had come out over a bottle of wine in his quarters. He chafed at the need to play nice with the Orlesians. He hated Celene and her court. He raged at their treatment of the elves. But he saw the need for them, for their support. In the end, he had blackmailed Celene into cooperation and finagled her elven consort, Briala, into a position of power behind the throne.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

The din grew louder and louder until Josephine’s voice cut through the noise, firm and commanding. Natalie couldn’t hear her words from her vantage point, but whatever she said certainly stopped the chatter in its tracks.

A loud bang echoed through the room as a side door flew open, the old wood hitting the wall beside the frame with a crack. A flurry of activity spewed forth from the dungeons beneath as four soldiers in Inquisition garb dragged a richly dressed figure through the buzzing crowd to deposit her before the dais. Her spine snapped straight and she cast a poisonous glare at her escort, the disheveled strands of fine, blonde hair atop her head flickering in the torchlight. Florianne. Some kind of duchess? She couldn’t quite remember who she was, nor did she really care, only that she had been the one behind the assassination attempt.

Hale’s expression never wavered from the indolent mask as his gaze skittered across the scene before him and settled on his fingernails. He studied them as if they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Nothing else to be concerned about. Josephine’s hard eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned to address the room, her words swallowed in the slowly gathering whispers that filled the low spaces of the room.

“I have heard a rumor that you traveled a very long way to be here.”

A husky voice broke through the scene to capture her attention. Natalie turned to the tall, dark figure that had taken up next to her. The woman’s piercing yellow gaze lingered on Natalie’s face with an intimidating sort of intensity, like she was judge and jury and had found Natalie wanting. It left her feeling strangely small, even as her hackles raised. Who did this woman think she was?

But she refused to be cowed by a stranger. She had made that mistake all those months ago upon meeting Bull. Made a fool of herself. That was not going to happen again.

Natalie met the fierce look head on, drawing herself up to her full, if unimpressive, height. “That’s one way to put it.”

Her yet-unnamed companion made a humming noise deep in her throat. “A visitor from a land unknown, found beneath a hole in the sky. Tis strange that none of the story can be proven.”

Natalie felt her spine bristle. “You can believe what you like. I have no reason to lie about it.”

“Do you not?” Amusement tinged her voice.

Natalie glared at tall woman next to her for a moment before she turned her eyes to the proceedings ahead of her. It was perhaps too much to ask that she would leave Natalie in peace. The silence lay thick as syrup between them as she made a concerted effort to focus all her attention on Hale’s wicked grin as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. A pose slightly more involved in the trial that was taking place, but still lazy. Natalie suppressed a smile. He was such a smartass.

“Do not misunderstand me. Tis not to say that I assume that your story is untrue.”

A hard snort made its way from Natalie’s throat. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I've been here for a year. I’ve been over this multiple times with people. And I don’t feel particularly inclined to do so again.”

Natalie could feel the eyes burning into the side of her face as she watched Hale stand at his place on the dais. The four guards were dragging the blonde Florianne away back toward the open door to the dungeons. There was a buzz of chatter flowing across the room again. What had Hale decided? His words had been eaten by the cavernous room and the crowd. 

“Are you not curious how such a feat could be accomplished?”

Natalie felt her blood go cold. What did she mean? She turned to meet the hard, yellow eyes beside her. “Are you saying that you know how?”

She shrugged. “I have spent many years studying all manner of ancient magic. Gaining another piece of the mysteries would be worth my time in assisting you.”

Natalie’s eye narrowed. “I see. You don’t actually know. You just want to use me as a guinea pig to find out.”

The two women stood locked in a stalemate, the air crackling between them. Natalie watched the wheels turn beneath her companion’s eyes, hard as steel. The woman knew something, but what? Natalie felt a flame burn deep within her chest. The need to  _ know. _

And if this woman did know how she had been transported here? Natalie turned over the possibilities in her mind, running each through her fingers like ribbons. If she could go home. If this woman could make that happen. Would she? 

That was the million dollar question.

“Natalie! I see you’ve met Morrigan. Morrigan served Empress Celene as her occult advisor.” A warm arm dropped across Natalie’s shoulder, tucking her into Hale’s side. “Morrigan, this is Natalie. Natalie is one of our healers.”

“Not only a healer, from what I have heard. But a traveler from another world.” Morrigan’s gaze still burned hot on her face.

“Ah, yes. That as well.” Hale gave Natalie’s shoulders a little squeeze and reached up to pinch a bit of her cheek between his thumb and forefinger. “Our little Bunny here is a woman of many mysteries. Isn’t that right?”

The urge to kick him directly in his shin was so strong she found herself grasping the fabric that covered her thigh with white knuckled fingers. Her smile had too many teeth when she turned it on him. “You know it.”

Hale grinned at her, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he jiggled the chunk of her cheek he had captured. She stared daggers at him. Tried her damndest to set him on fire with her eyes. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. Hale’s smile only grew more cheshire. 

“Are you going to let go of my face?” She bit out. 

“Hmmm? Oh, is this bothering you?” He let go of her cheek, the absence of his fingers leaving a stinging pain behind. “Sure.”

A quiet cough cut through their exchange as Morrigan cleared her throat. A glance told Natalie that the other women was somewhat less amused by their antics than Hale was.

“Right.” Hale turned the fill force of his enigmatic smile on Morrigan. “You said you had something you wished to show me?”

“Indeed. If you would follow, there is something you should see.” Morrigan’s eyes passed from Hale to Natalie, the weight of her scrutiny filling Natalie with that same sense of smallness. “You should come as well, healer. I think what I wish to share is relevant to your  _ situation _ .”

Surprise flickered across Natalie’s mind. What exactly did this woman have to show Hale? She nodded stiffly before following the two of them out of the Great Hall.

On the far end of the garden, there was a door Natalie had never opened. Never seen anyone else open. It was sturdy and wooden, its frame crowned in decades of tattered cobwebs. All these months, she had assumed it was storage. Seeing the interior, she saw that she had been right… sort of. 

A huge mirror with a tarnished golden frame dominated the wall furthest from the door, the sunlight from the stained glass windows reflecting watery rainbows on the gray stone walls. The glass rippled with latent magic, electric blue and ominous. 

Hale approached it with measured steps, his eyes glowing in the light of the magical energy weaving along its surface. “What is this?” His tone was hushed. “Its elven, but it wasn’t here before. I assume you brought it with you?”

“It is elven, indeed. An ancient artifact from a time long before their empire fell.” Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest. “It is an eluvian.”

“An eluvian.” Hale’s voice was an awestruck whisper. He reached with trembling fingers to stroke the gilded frame but drew them back at the last minute, obviously thinking better of it.

An overwhelming sense of deja vu passed over Natalie. The niggling feeling that this was all somehow familiar. The strange idea that she had seen a mirror such as this before. 

“This one came into my possession long ago and I restored it with great cost to myself, but there is another within the Arbor Wilds. It is that which Corypheus seeks.”

“How did you manage to restore an artifact like this?” Hale’s eyes snapped to her face.

“Nothing comes without a price, Inquisitor, but it was one I gladly paid. Many years ago, I heard the legend of an eluvian that resided in a forgotten temple deep within the Arbor Wilds. It proved far too perilous to obtain, so I was forced to seek my prize elsewhere. But if Corypheus is moving South toward the Wilds, it is my belief that it is that same Temple, and the eluvian within, that he seeks. With his army, he could succeed where I did not.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s a gateway.” The words filled her brain and popped out of her mouth before Natalie even knew what she was saying. Shock spiked along her nerves. Where had that come from? 

Morrigan’s ferocious gaze speared through her. Assessing. Suspicious. “It is indeed. Curious how you knew that.”

Not wanting to admit that she had known it, or that she had no idea how she had known, Natalie shrugged. “It was just a guess?” A dull throbbing pain sprung to life behind her eyes.

Yellow eyes never left Natalie's face as Morrigan waved her hand before the mirror. The surface of the glass broke into blinding blue light, shimmering in rings like the surface of a pond after a rock has broken through its still face. It ebbed and flowed as Morrigan cast a final glance at the pair of them before stepping through, her dark form disappearing behind the icy pane.

A gasp wrung from Natalie’s throat. “Did she just… walk through a mirror?” She wasn’t sure why that was so surprising. In fact, it was probably one of the least surprising things she had seen in a while. Sometimes, she really missed normal.

“She did.” Hale’s gaze darted between the wavering portal and Natalie. “Shall we follow?”

Natalie swallowed hard and placed her hand in Hale’s, taking a breath to steady her nerves. “Doesn’t seem like I have a choice.”

“Nope!” Hale’s voice echoed cheerfully as he bounded through the portal, dragging her behind him. 

The shock of hitting the surface of the eluvian stole the breath from her lungs. It was chill. Viscous. Grabbing and holding onto the edges of her body. Pushing. Trying to expel the invaders from its very flesh. It was horribly claustrophobic, and Natalie could feels the first icy fingers of fear claw into the back of her mind. Hale’s hand clasped in hers pulled her through the heavy atmosphere, an anchoring weight that held her whirring brain in reality. 

And then they were free. A rush of stale, warm air hit her face as the eluvian spat them out on the other side. Her knees buckled as they hit the ground, but she caught herself and steadied her watery legs. 

“Sweet creators…” Hale’s voice was soft and reverent, catching her attention. He gazed around in naked awe, eyes devouring the foreign landscape. 

Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed around. Shrouded in mist, the forms of dozens more eluvians peered from the gloom like sentinels. Huge stone trees with swirling, pointed fingers dotted the spaces between them, punctuating the broken and raised floor beneath their feet. Everything was strangely gray and monotone, like someone had come and drained all the color from this place.

Natalie could feel the brittle pressure of  _ something  _ on her skin. It crept along, leaving the small hairs on her arms standing on end. The sheer weight of it made her head pound even harder. That overwhelming sense of familiarity she had felt upon seeing the eluvian swallowed her. Where were they?

“What is this place?” Hale asked, still peering around like a lost child.

“If it once had a name, it is now lost. I simply call it The Crossroads. It is the place where all eluvians meet.”

“They traveled like this, then?” Hale asked.

Morrigan inclined her head. “The ancient elven ruins lay distant, mouldering in far-flung corners. The eluvians were the roads they used to travel between them.”

“That’s incredible.” Hale’s face reflected his amazement at this fact. “Think of what a network of magical travel like this could do. You could be anywhere in minutes.”

A flash of color flitted across Natalie’s peripheral vision, bright hues of autumnal leaves bleeding through the gray mist. Shadowed forms walking between the great sculpted trees. Hazy, flickering. Like the static of a television with a bad cable connection. A spike of blinding pain hit between her eyes. Natalie pressed a palm to her forehead, trying to ease it.

“If the ancient elves were capable of a feat like this…” Hale’s voice trailed off.

“Yes, it seems odd that the Tevinter Imperium were ever able to challenge them.”

Her feet were rooted the floor, legs stiff and unyielding. The shadowy figures glitched in and out of view, fleeting and half-visible. Colors shifting, blinking into being and then fading away again. Like dreams in the minutes just before waking. Stuttering glimpses of something else. Something more. 

Her mind reached out to grasp the shuddering glimpses, trying to stabilize them. Arrange the confusing jumble into something recognizable. She knew the shapes the pieces should make, somehow, but could not visualize the entire picture.

“Natalie, are you alright?” 

The question jolted her back into the present, her feet stumbling on the uneven ground. She took a shaking breath, her lungs slow to expand, as she looked back to Hale. “Yes.” Her eyes looked back over the eluvians, once more dim and gray. “Yes, I’m okay.” She laughed weakly and waved a hand at him, the pain in her head fading to a dull throb. “I’m fine.”

Hale’s green eyes traced her form, assessing, before turning back to Morrigan. “So someone with enough power would be able to pierce the Veil and enter the Fade in the flesh.”

“He learned of this place just as I did, and now he marches what remains of his forces to claim it.” Morrigan paused her words and turned her attention to where Natalie stood, a few feet away. “Tis why I had the Inquisitor bring you with us. You say you are from another world beyond this one. I would imagine that you were brought here through a pocket in the Veil between our world and the Fade, and then expelled back out again on the wrong side.”

Natalie shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened, but they tell me that I was found beneath a Fade rift. Wouldn’t it make more sense that I fell directly from the Fade, then?”

“Perhaps. But it is unlikely that a mortal would survive long enough in the Fade to travel so far.” Morrigan retorted.

“Hale did.” Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “He walked the Fade just as I did, and he is mortal like I am.”

“To be fair, I had a spirit helping me. Both times.” Hale looked slightly queasy at the conversation, obviously uncomfortable talking about his journeys in the Fade. 

Natalie considered what he was saying. A shining purple face flared in her vision. “Maybe I did too. Maybe there are pockets in the Fade similar to this one. Maybe that’s how I got here.”

“Elven legends say that the Elven Gods were tricked into sealing themselves in into a prison beyond the Fade. It stands to reason that such a thing could be possible.” The cogs were whirring behind Morrigan’s eyes again. “If such a thing were true, we might be able to locate where you were able to breach the Fade and send you back.”

“And open up the possibility of travel between worlds.” Hale’s eyes grew wide. 

Natalie’s jaw worked up and down, her teeth clicking together loudly in her skull as she mulled over Morrigan’s words. It made sense. The simplest way to return would be to go back the way she came. But is that how she got here? No one knew for sure.

The prospect of being the catalyst that allowed Thedas to bleed over into Earth hit her like a punch in the gut. Her home was distinctly incompatible with this one. Magic had no place on Earth. It could have catastrophic effects. 

Morrigan continued. “There are more pressing matters to discuss at the present moment, however. You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must reach the eluvian and stop his plans, and soon.”

Hale nodded. “You are right, Morrigan. We should move quickly.”

Her footsteps echoed across the hard ground as Morrigan crossed back toward her opened eluvian, pale and shining in the gloom. It cast harsh highlights along the angular planes of her face. “Then let us make our plans.” With that, her form disappeared back into the gleaming liquid glass of the eluvian.

Hale cast a final glance around the Crossroads, his eyes committing the sight of elven history made flesh to memory. He heaved a sigh and held out a hand to Natalie. “We should go. This place give me the creeps.”

“Not as bad as walking through the eluvian did.” Natalie shuddered as her palm met his. “Let’s get this over with.”


	33. Soldier

Visions of demons tearing through Millenium Park, chasing tourists down Michigan Avenue, a churning neon rent in the sky letting through magic and mayhem into a thoroughly unmagical world, filled Natalie’s mind as she left the garden with Hale at her side. She could feel a steely resolve settle deep in her mind. There was no way she was going to let anyone open any portals to Earth, no matter the reason. They could try over her dead body. Which meant, for better or for worse, she was staying right here.

Forever.

The cold finality of it left a hard weight in her stomach. This was it for her. No going back. On the bright side, she had made friends. She had found someone to love. She had fulfilling work. _It will be fine._ The words filtered across her mind as she felt the door to her old life slam shut.

Forever.

Tangling with Morrigan over such an issue was an unpleasant prospect. The witch was a formidable figure and Natalie didn’t trust her. There were ulterior motives at work behind her knowledge and apparent willingness to share it. She wanted something. The question was what.

Hale caught her hand, pulling her back before she could open the door into the Great Hall. Flickering candlelight highlighted the angular planes of his face, the black lines of his branching tattoos stark against his tan skin and pale eyebrows.

“Natalie—“ His voice stuttered and died as his eyes fell to the stone floor.

“Hale, I want to go.” Hers was nowhere near as unsure as his. Her words hit the air with a decisive clang.

With a start, his head snapped up and his gaze met hers. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You heard me. I want to go with you to find this eluvian.”

His lips parted as a look of bewildered shock crossed his handsome face. “Natalie… Natalie, _no._ ”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re not a soldier? Because it’s dangerous. Dahn’direlan, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I just heard Morrigan make a casual mention of using that eluvian to rip open a portal into my world. I won’t stand by and watch that happen. If I have to be there to make sure she doesn’t, I will be.”

“But you could go home, if she can figure it out.”

“And who knows what would follow me!” Her voice rose an octave as she spat the words at him. “I will not let that happen.”

“You can’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

“I’ve been complacent for too long, Hale. I’ve been accepting and I’ve just stood by and watched all of this happen around me. I can’t anymore.” She swallowed hard as heats pricked at the backs of her eyes. “If I’m staying here, then I want to contribute.”

“You do contribute. You’re a healer, and a damn good one.”

“Exactly. I’m a healer, and none of your other companions are. At least not as a specialization.” Her eyes spit green fire as she clenched her fists, nails cutting half moons into her palms. “I’ve been sparring with the Chargers for months. I’m not helpless.”

“You were in one battle and almost got yourself killed!”

“I did something stupid but I learn from my mistakes! I killed that Behemoth!”

“By sheer dumb luck, which hardly counts.” His scoff set her blood boiling.

“It wasn’t luck. I did exactly what I meant to.”

Hale stopped dead at her words, looking at her quizzically. “What do you mean you did what you meant to? I’ve never seen anyone do what you did.”

“I rarely say things I don’t mean, Hale.” Her tone brooked no argument.

He stared at her, eyes narrowed dangerously. “I won’t be responsible for getting you killed, Natalie.”

“No, you won’t. I’m an adult.” Her voice softened. “I’ll be responsible if I get myself killed.”

A bitter laugh escaped his mouth on a harsh exhale. “And whose conscience do you think that will fall on, if I let that happen, huh?”

“You’re not my keeper.”

“No, I’m your Inquisitor.” He drew himself up, his spine straight as a mantle of authority fell over his shoulders. She had the fleeting thought that he wore it well, even if he did so begrudgingly.

“And my friend.” Warmth filled her heart as she reached up to curl her fingers around the back of his head. “My dearest friend.”

With a heavy sigh, his shoulders crumpled and his forehead fell against hers. “You don’t understand, Natalie. All of you are my responsibility. Every person who walks beneath our banner. Their lives are in my hands.”

“We are here because we chose to be.”

“Did you? Is this really what you chose?”

“If I had asked to leave, you would have let me. But I didn’t.” She scratched lightly along his scalp, letting the long, silvery strands of his hair shift beneath her fingers. “I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove I belong here.”

“You don’t have to prove it.”

The silence crept in around them as they stood still for long moments. Natalie felt her thoughts rolling around inside her skull, beating to get out. “I think I have to prove it to myself.” She sighed and took a step back. “For a year, I have been existing between two worlds. I can’t live like that anymore.”

Hale’s steady gaze held her in place. She could see him considering her words, weighing the consequences. Finally, he let out a long sigh as his mouth twisted into a grimace. “I guess we should take you down to Harritt and get you fitted for some real armor then.”

Natalie’s squeal could have shattered glass as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close to her. Hale made a series of unflattering choking noises as she pulled him down with her weight. “Hale!”

“I already regret this.” Hale carefully extricated himself from her grasping arms. “Now I have to take that elf you’ve shacked up with or else he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Natalie laughed. “You’re chasing an ancient elven artifact. You would have taken him anyway.”

The merry twinkle in his eye belied his stern expression. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

“Is that a threat, Inquisitor?”

“Of course it is.” Hale leaned past her to grip the handle of the inner door. “You should go down to the undercroft and let them take some measurements. Tell Harritt and Dagna I’ll be down later to give them some specifics.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Hale rolled his eyes. “You are spending too much time with Bull. Now go, I’m about to get stuck in the war room for the next several hours, so you should go find something to occupy yourself.”

Now it was Natalie’s turn to roll her eyes. “So full of yourself. I do have a life that doesn’t involve you, sir.”

“Keep telling yourself that. We all know I’m the center of the universe.” With his usual grin back in place, Hale swept out the door and into the Great Hall with Natalie hot on his heels, headed off to secure her very own set of armor.

Natalie wasn’t sure how she had never encountered the bubbly Arcanist before, but Dagna was something of a shock to the system after the morning she had had. A bright ray of sunshine in the underbelly of the castle. Her head was spinning by the time she was finished being poked and prodded by the smiling dwarf and the mustachioed blacksmith. Dagna had hardly paused to take a breath, even though the whole process had taken nearly an hour.

She left the undercroft with ringing ears and a head full of random facts about the alchemical properties of several different types of stone and ore, and their use in enchantments. Though, really, only about one word in every five had made any kind of sense.

Her feet carried her across the stones until she found herself in the rotunda. The pleasant sight of a tapered waist and shapely backside greeted her as she walked through the door. Solas was bent over his desk, scribbling furiously across a piece of parchment. A plate of sputtering candles lit his silhouette to advantage.

A small smile spread across her face as she remembered the previous activities she had engaged in on that very desk. At the time, it had seemed such a good idea. Or rather, it had not even been an idea. There had not been much thinking involved. In reality, they were lucky that it had been late and the rotunda had been deserted, especially with Dorian and the spymaster away at the Winter Palace. Natalie would never be able to look at this room quite the same way again.

“Did you know that our new occult advisor has brought with her an ancient elven mirror she calls an eluvian?” Natalie drifted across the room and let her fingers trail across his shoulders as she passed by, rounding the desk to face him.

His eyes were glacial as his mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile. “I am aware of that fact, yes. Our esteemed ‘advisor’ has no idea what forces she meddles in.”

“And you do?” Natalie leaned her hip against the edge of the desk, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Moreso than she does.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I will provide an answer as much as I am able.”

“What is the place beyond the mirror? It didn’t feel like it was fully reality, but Morrigan said it is not the Fade either. She called it a place ‘between.’”

His hand paused in its journey across the paper before him, a tiny blot of ink leaking from the tip of his quill to pool inky darkness across its creamy surface. “She took you through the Eluvian, then?”

“She did. It was—“ Natalie paused, her teeth worrying at her lip as she thought about the best way to describe the skittering vision she had seen in the Crossroads.

“Yes?” Solas prompted, giving up all semblance of work and laying his quill alongside the ink pot.

“It felt almost like a dream. I kept seeing these— echoes. Almost like memories? I don’t know. But they kept breaking through the fog, teasing me. But it was so _familiar_ for some reason.” She looked up at him, meeting his misty gaze. “That’s crazy, right?”

“And what did you see?”

“I couldn’t make any sense of it. It was just colors and vague shapes, snippets of voices. When I tried to piece it together, it all just kind of slipped away.” Natalie’s voice trailed off as her mind tangled itself up in the confusing events that had taken place within the eluvian.

“I see. That sounds very distressing.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I am not sure how you wish for me to respond.”

“Maybe with an opinion? I know you have plenty of them.”

His stare was piercing as he leveled it at her. She felt the urge to shrink away and a small flicker of regret for snapping at him, but she held her ground. “Lady Morrigan is correct. Those pathways exist both separate from and as a part of both the Fade and this world. Perhaps your travel through the Fade and your unique position as a being not of either allowed you to view some of the stored memories.”

She considered his point. It was a valid one. Maybe it _was_ different for her because she was not made of the same fabric this world was made of. She hummed deep in her chest. “Maybe you’re right. How has that never happened before?”

“You have never ventured into a location where the separation between you and the Fade was so thin before. It is not surprising that you would find something different about such a place.”

Natalie had to concede that what he was saying made sense, but it still didn’t sit quite right with her. “I probably should let Hale tell you this, but Morrigan thinks Corypheus is trying to secure his own eluvian somewhere to the south. She thinks he wants to enter the Crossroads and rip open the veil from there.”

“An interesting theory, to be sure. There are many ancient mysteries in the ruin to the south. Maybe Morrigan is correct.” Solas crossed an arm over his chest and smoothed his long fingers over his chin as his mind considered the possibilities. “Although, perhaps our resident ‘occult expert’ only thinks our enemy seeks the eluvian because she is not aware of what else may lie in those ruins.”

“So, you think he isn’t after it?”

“I know not. I could not presume to claim that I know the mind of such a creature. The eluvian seems as likely as any other possibility.” He shrugged lightly.

“She also thinks that she could use the Crossroads to open a portal to send me home.” Natalie watched him carefully as the words left her, but he gave no outward reaction. “I’m not going to let her do that.”

His head cocked to the side as he peered at her. “I would think you would like to return to the world you knew.”

“Not if it means destroying it.” The words were soft in the air between them. “I feel like this is my purpose now, to be the sentinel of Earth.”

“That is a large undertaking, to appoint yourself the protector of an entire world.”

“I don’t have a choice.” She drew in a shuddering breath, holding in the moisture pooling in her eyes. “Which is why I’m going south with Hale when he goes.”

Solas was very still. “That is a very inadvisable journey.”

“I am aware. Hale already made it clear how much he disagrees.”

“And yet, he has agreed to allow it.”

“He has. I am telling you because I wanted you to hear it from me before someone else.”

He pushed away from the desk, its legs skidding slightly across the stone floor. Deep furrows creased the space between his brows as he paced. It was fairly obvious that he was trying to work out a way to convince her not to go. “You cannot be allowed to go. It is a terrible idea.”

Natalie’s spine stiffened at his insinuation. “I can’t be _allowed_ to? Tell me, which one of you has the authority to tell me I’m not allowed to do something?” She had expected resistance, logical arguments, likely even a few passionate ones. But outright forbidding her? Nope. She didn’t fly like that.

“We would be walking directly into the path of Corypheus himself. You are not prepared to defend yourself from one such has him.”

“I am a lot more prepared to do a lot of things than any of you give me credit for.”

“Not battle with an ancient darkspawn Magister. Have you utterly lost your senses?”

Angry heat rose up in her chest, staining her neck red. “No, I haven't. In fact, I feel like I’ve finally found them again.”

“It is obvious that that is patently false. You are not prepared for a fight of this magnitude. You have no business being involved in this.” His cheeks had begun to turn pink to match hers, his eyes flashing blue fire. She had not seen him this angry since she had woken up after healing Rylen.

After the argument with Hale, she was in no mood to have the same one with Solas. She stormed across the room to face him where he was wearing a stripe in the floor. “How dare you insinuate that I am incapable. I have to do something! I have to protect the billions of people that live in the world I came from! By any means necessary. Even if that means I die in the process.”

“Do you even know how you propose to accomplish that?” His voice rang around the room. Natalie was sure that if she looked up, there would be curious eyes peering at them from the library balcony. They were not being particularly quiet.

Let them look.

“No! I don’t! But I will figure it out!” She bellowed, punctuating her words with hard jabs of her finger into his chest. He seemed as shocked as she was by her angry outburst. Natalie straightened herself and looked down, dusting an imaginary speck of dust from her pale, blue skirt. “Now, if you excuse me, I have more important things to do than argue with you.”

She left him standing there, staring at her retreating figure. A part of her had hoped that he would call after her to apologize, but he didn’t. The door swung shut behind her with a resounding crack, echoing the identical one in her chest.

* * *

 

The setting sun outside her window cast long shadows across her room, darkness melding into the warm light. A cold lump sat in her throat, exactly where it had resided all day. Bitter regret had dogged her all day, ever since her hasty exit from the rotunda that morning. She knew there were many ways she could have handled that conversation better.

Imagined retorts flooded her mind, spinning over and over to consider the perfect comeback. She was crying her shoulda, coulda, wouldas, as her Nonna had called them. Sometimes, they were cutting and severe. Other times, they soothed his ragged edges and her own anger. Deep down, she knew that his reaction came from a place of fear, but she could not stop the nagging feeling that maybe… maybe he really thought she could not handle herself.

And maybe she couldn’t. Maybe this was all a huge mistake. A potentially fatal one.

The covers did little to warm her as she curled beneath them, trying her best to shut out the sounds of the fortress winding down for the day. She itched to spring from her bed and go find Solas, if only to pry an apology from him. There was no way in hell she would be the first to utter one.

A soft creak disrupted her already disorderly thoughts as the door swung open. She was all ready to deliver a cutting remark to whoever dared come into her room without even knocking, before she realized the person bore long, pointed ears and a familiar bald head.

With a huff, she rolled over and turned her back to the door. Her eyes were fixed stubbornly to the far wall. He was sorely mistaken if he thought she was going to give up on her sulk easily.

The barely audible click of the door shutting had her almost holding her breath, waiting to see what he would do. Soft footsteps shuffled across the floor, the worn boards creaking slightly to track his progress toward her. For long moments, there was no sound. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her back. Why was he just standing there? Why didn’t he say something?

Her body swayed as the mattress dipped beneath his weight. The weight of his body left the promise of warmth along her limbs. She could feel him there, watching her as she refused to look at him.

“I apologize if I made it seem like I do not have faith in your abilities.”

That was a start. Not good enough.

“Natalie, you are an intelligent, capable woman. But I fear that you do not realize the magnitude of the threat you are pitting yourself against.”

She huffed in irritation. “I was in Haven, Solas. I saw what he did.”

“You were. Yet you did not face him yourself.”

“He tore a giant hole in the sky. I think I get it.”

He let out a weary sigh. “I do not wish to see you harmed. I… I admit that it scares me to think of you directly involved in a battle.”

Natalie cast a glance over her shoulder. He sat at the edge of her bed, shoulders hunched somewhat and his eyes trained on her. Exhaustion was etched in the long lines of his body, giving him a weight surpassing even what he normally carried. His eyes blazed with some undefinable emotion as he returned her stare. “I appreciate your concern.”

“I also admit that I handled our earlier conversation poorly. You caught me unaware and I reacted in a way I should not have.”

Natalie felt the cold, angry stone in her chest crack. She sighed and rolled to face him. “I could have done better also. I let my temper get the most of me.”

His face softened as he reached out to smooth the loose strands of her hair away from her face. “The thought of you sacrificing yourself pains me greatly, but I will not stand in your way if that is what you feel you must do.”

The heaviness of this moment was not lost on her as she watched his face. A thousand conflicting thoughts flickered across his beloved features, a kaleidoscope that spun so fast she couldn’t decipher all of the shapes. “I don’t want it to come to that, but I can't continue to stand by and do nothing. Not if there is some way I can prevent something even more terrible from happening.”

“I understand, vhenan.” His hand came to a rest, warm along the side of her face. “More than you know.”

“Thank you.”

His head bent to capture her lips, his own tasting of sorrow and regret. She let herself melt into the cold comfort of a desperate embrace. Let herself forget, if only until morning.


	34. Long Way Down

It was strange the way the very earth seemed to hold its breath on the eve of battle. The same silent tension had permeated the camps just before Adamant. An ominous thickness in the air. Natalie lay awake, staring into the rough canvas that separated her from the sky. Her mind itched and roiled beneath her skin, leaving her limbs jittering and hard to settle.

The journey to the Arbor Wilds had been a swift one, despite the addition of an army and all three of Hale’s advisors. Blessedly shorter than the rough trek through mountain and desert of her last one. Miles had disappeared beneath the horses hooves as they pounded South into the verdant forests of the ancient elven homeland. Trees as tall as buildings cast long shadows over crumbling ruins of ageless beauty. She had been stunned by the natural majesty of the landscape. Reveled in the feel of the cool, clean air across her face.

A distinct lack of enemies on the road had left all of them uneasy, Hale’s face tightening with every hill and valley. This Corypheus had really pulled back all of his forces into whatever assault he was planning. Cassandra thought it likely that the coming fight would be ugly.

Anxiety churned hot and bright in her gut. With a harsh sigh, Natalie threw back the covers and slipped her feet into her boots. There seemed to be little chance that her mind and body would settle tonight. Maybe fresh air would help.

Night had fallen across the camp, the main areas deserted but for the steady shuffle of the night watchmen. A fire still crackled faintly, her nose picking up the lingering scent of grilled meat. Chills ran down her spine, raising the small hairs on her arms. Natalie wrapped her arms tight over her chest. Stars twinkled from between the trees as she padded between the tents. The darkness suddenly seemed stifling. She needed to see the sky.

The sweeping branches overhead broke away a short way past the last line of tents, revealing a clear black field filled with hundreds of twinkling stars. Her eyes sought out the place where she knew a pale green scar stained the daytime sky. Hale had closed the Breach so many months ago. They had no idea their battle was just beginning. Would tomorrow be the day when this finally ended? The cynical part of her, deep down, said no. But she wanted to hope.

“One would think it is foolish to wander out alone with the enemy so close by.”

Another shiver trickled down her spine as she peered over her shoulder at Solas, admiring his tall form in the watery starlight. The way the moon cast pale beams across his face, highlighting the sharp angles. It was ridiculous how attractive he was. Just disgusting, really.

Her lip quirked up into a slight smile. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Grass whispered underfoot as he closed the remaining feet between them. Long fingers brushed the tops of her shoulders, gliding down to rest on her biceps. Warmth spread across her arms, fighting back the chill of the winter air. “Tell me what thoughts are keeping you awake.”

Natalie sighed, leaning back into his chest. “Just… worried about tomorrow,” she confessed.

“I would think it strange if you were not.”

She huffed in agreement. “Do you think this will be the end?”

His hands left her arms to wrap around her, drawing her closer into his body. “I think this world has many problems that need solving. This is naught but the most pressing.”

“That is any world, not just this one.”

“True. Civilizations are fallible. Leaders rise. Gods fall. People fight and die. Injustices endure through leadership and generation. Heroes are elevated and then cut down.”

Natalie was momentarily stunned before she recovered herself. “Well, that was uplifting.” She replied with a chuckle.

“Was it not?” His eyes held a secret sparkle in their shadowed depths.

Her chuckle bloomed into a full laugh. “Did you just make a joke? Because that sounded like a joke.”

“You are laughing, are you not?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Her eyes scanned the trees around them, wondering what else was out there. “What will you do after this is all over? When the Inquisition doesn’t need you anymore?”

She could feel him still behind her. “Oh, I am sure I will find a way to occupy myself. As I always have. Have you thought about what you wish to do?”

“I want to explore. There is so much I haven’t seen.”

“And where would you go first?”

She considered his question for long moments. Where would she go? She didn’t even know. There was no frame of reference. She only knew what the people of the Inquisition had told her about the rest of the world, so the answer seemed obvious. And impossible. “Everywhere.”

“You have quite a journey ahead of you, then.” Amusement colored his voice as he rested his cheek against her hair.

Natalie twisted in his arms. Their chests pressed together, noses inches away. “It would help if I had a guide, someone who knows their way around.”

“I assume the Inquisitor would be happy to oblige.”

She snorted. “For someone so smart, you can certainly be dense sometimes. I mean you.”

Long moments ticked by in silence as she watched shadows pass across his eyes. In a rush of movement, he crushed her against his chest and laid his cheek along the top her head. “Ah, vhenan, that is a dream worth having.”

They had never discussed what would become of whatever this was they had built after this fight was over. Suddenly, she desperately needed to know. But now was so not the time. A deep sigh rolled from her chest as she let herself relax, his warmth enveloping her in familiar comfort.

“Come, my heart. You need rest if you plan to go to war tomorrow.”

Natalie let him pull her back into the fading light of the campfires. Let him wrap her in limbs and comfort until finally, she drifted off to sleep.

Dawn broke with cold light blazing on the horizon, staining the sky pink and orange through the trees. Gentle hands coaxed her from the depths of sleep. The chill air brushed across the skin of her belly before warm lips chased it away. She shivered, but not from temperature, as those same lips trailed across the soft flesh. Why couldn’t they stay just like this forever? Rest for eternity in a blissful cocoon of hazy light and warm skin.

“Vhenan, we must wake. War waits for no man.”

The weight lifted from her and she watched him rummage for the armor Hale had commissioned for her. Sitting, she pulled the leather breeches and undertunic to her and began to dress.

She could feel his gaze on her as skin was bared and covered again. See the stillness of his hands on his own armor. Their quiet breathing and the rustle of cloth filled the space between them. The slide of leather. The rattle of metal buckles.

Natalie’s fingers shook on the laces of her boots. Gearing up for battle. It had to be one of the most ridiculous thoughts she had ever had. She felt so far removed from the city girl from Chicago she had been a little over a year ago. The largest battle she had ever faced had been Target on Black Friday the year she needed a new TV.

This felt different from Haven. She could see this coming. It felt different from Adamant, where she had been removed from the battle itself and had only seen the aftermath. Bloodied, screaming aftermath.

Her fingers shook a little harder, the laces slipping from between them as she tried again to knot them. A hard lump formed in her chest.

“Here, let me help.” His soft voice soothed the momentary panic as he gently brushed her hands away and knotted the ties with deft movements.

An awkward laugh escaped her as she felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he picked up her gray leather cuisses. She quivered as his fingers brushed along the insides of her thighs, adjusting the hardened armor and buckling them into place.

“Stand.”

The canvas roof brushed her hair as she unfolded from the floor and turned, heart pounding.

The breastplate was next, made of the same gray leather and embossed with shining patterns of the Thedosian constellations around the edges. His hands move quickly, dropping it into place and looping the crisscrossing straps that would have taken her an hour to figure out.

Vambraces and pauldrons. A long coat of soft white leather trimmed in mossy green silk. Slender gloves with hardened steel along the backs.

“The Inquisitor outdid himself on this particular commission.” Solas’ eyes roved her from head to toe as he stepped away from her to grab her brand new staff of dark wood and grasping branches around a head of shimmering amethyst crystal. “You look ready. Do you feel ready?”

Did she feel ready? No. Not at all, if she was being honest with herself. Straightening, she forced her shoulders back and her chin up. Her hands grasped the staff, their fingers brushing together softly. “I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

Branches brushed her shoulders as they darted down the steep path, the roots of a great tree creating a rather dirty ceiling. The first blockade lay beyond the tunnel, Inquisition forces fighting to distract the swarm of Red Templars and Venatori mages. Air rushed from her lungs, breaths heavy with exertion and anxiety.

Hale spun to face the group. Natalie. Solas. Cassandra. Dorian. Morrigan. Their eyes watched him as he hovered near the exit. “Strike hard and fast, and don’t any of you dare die on me.”

With a fierce cry, Hale turned and darted down the path toward the sound of roaring water. Heart pounding in her chest, blood thrumming in her veins, Natalie dashed after the group. The staff in her hands was clenched so tightly she thought it might be in danger of snapping.

_Here we go._

The clearing at the base of the road was little more than a set of ancient ruins set in a flooded plain, a massive waterfall looming over one end. Red Templars patrolled, their disfigured forms bright against the greenery. With a roar, they rushed toward the Inquisitors party as soon as Hale’s shadowed form burst through the trees and into the water.

Metal clashed against metal as the waves of friend and foe met and blade skidded armor. Hale was a dark blur, whirling through the enemies like a deadly hurricane. Cassandra’s war cry pierced the air, drowning out the echoing shrieks of the lyrium-corrupted monsters. Fire and ice spewed across the battlefield.

Energy coursed across her fingertips, funneling into the staff in her hands. Lightning spewed forth, exploding across red crystal and twisted flesh. A form in ragged blue armor rushed her, sword drawn. Calm fell across her mind, wiping it of thoughts beyond the flood of adrenaline in her blood. Sword met barrier as the enemy was repelled. She whirled and blasted him back with a quick spell. His shadowed eyes bore into hers as he charged, face twisted in a grimace of rage and pain.

Natalie dodged the huge body. Pain seared across her bicep as his blade slid into her leathers and skidded along her skin. With a growl, she whirled on him with fire burning in her veins. She could feel it coalescing in her staff. With a rush of electricity along her skin, lightning burst from her hands and the Grey Warden fell, water rippling around his unmoving body.

Hale darted past, heading for the riverbed beyond the pools of calf deep water. They streamed after him, bringing a wave of death in their wake. The sprinting journey through winding river and ancient forest became a blur of crackling magic and spraying blood. Natalie panted, her skin stinging from a dozen scrapes and slashes, blood dripping down her face and into her mouth. Whether it was hers or someone else’s she couldn’t tell. She had lost track long ago. And really, she was too busy just staying alive to care.

Later. Later she would be grossed out.

The Venatori mage who was barreling fireballs into her barrier fell in a hale of ice and snow as Solas took him down, approaching from behind her to cover her. His angular face was drawn with concentration, eyes blazing with righteous fire. Natalie dropped her barrier as the mage fell, sending a grateful smile his way. She could see his eyes scanning her, probably trying to determine the source of the blood that was splattered across her chest. Warmth bloomed in her chest as she shot him a lopsided smile.

An arrow shot past her head. Whirring through the air.

“Oh shit.” She breathed, ducking.

A hooded figure in shining armor shot a second arrow on the back of the first. It whizzed past, scoring a burning line across her cheek. Her barriers shot back up as Solas ducked in front of her, a swirling ball of ice surrounding his hands.

Hale darted past, his twin blades flashing as he slashed downward. The shining figure fell.

“What the hell was that? That was no Red Templar.” Hale’s chest rose and fell as he took a panting breath.

“Nor Venatori, nor Grey Warden.” Solas’ face was drawn, mouth tight.

Hale snorted. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find out soon. Let’s move before more show up.”

Their party wound deeper into the wild forest. Enemy after enemy fell. A forward camp. Venatori. Grey Wardens. Red Templars. They cut a swath through the Arbor Wilds with blade and staff until the Temple loomed large across a shallow lake. The clash of battle clattered through the air.

“Nearly there, now.” Hale breathed, looking a little worn around the edges. How long had they been fighting? It felt like hours. “Ready yourselves for the final push to the Temple.” His steady green gaze took them all in. “Let’s go.”

Her muscles protested, but she followed. Arms ached. Shoulders were tight from holding her staff. Her leather leggings clung to her legs, tight and uncomfortable from their long slog through lake and river. Watching Return of the King under a blanket on her couch had not prepared her for the true reality of fighting. Shocker. But she wasn’t dead yet. A silver lining, but yet again, shocking.

The sounds of battle intensified as they rounded the final bend. Forces of Inquisition soldiers led by the Commander were locked in a fierce battle. Hale and Cassandra dashed in. She was shining armor and upraised sword. He as a dark blur of deadly promise. The mages fanned out, reinforcing the front lines.

Shields repelled the friendly forces as the Grey Wardens pressed them back, pinning them down in the watery terrain. Marksmen took aim. Arrows pinged off of her hastily erected barriers as she enveloped the front line troops in wavering light.

Enemies broke away to flank the mages.

She jumped back, barriers wavering, as a massive form with sword in one hand and dagger in the other swung at her. Natalie yelped as his blade swung, clanking against her magic. Could she hold onto hers and the one around the soldiers in the water while being attacked? It seemed she was going to find out.

Lightning danced from her fingertips, splashing against the blighted crystals jutting from his neck and shoulders. He wavered, eyes blazing with hatred, before charging again. His massive form crashed against her barrier.

Stretching. Denting. Cracking.

It was enough. Her barrier fell. The Templar charged. The knife it its opposite hand swung and connected, tearing into her shoulder. Pain radiated through her chest. The impact sent her jolting forward, knees meeting the muddy ground. Her breath escaped in a harsh torrent. Choking. Gasping. Gathering her strength, she pushed outward with her mind and blasted the Templar away from her. A fresh wave of agony tore through her as the knife pulled free.

“Fuck.” She whispered, holding her hand to the gushing wound. Thick, hot blood poured between her fingers. Sliding down her arm. Dripping off her elbow to stain the water with a red tinge.

“Natalie!” Solas crashed through the water toward her, the body of the fallen Templar bobbing in the water behind him.

Watery green enveloped them as he reached her, throwing up his own barrier.

She stared at him, dazed and dizzy, as she probed the wound with her senses, pouring magic into it. Spikes of blazing heat burned through her flesh as muscle and sinew and vein knitted back together.

Her awareness slipped inside. Tunnelling down. Down. Down.

Her body fell away. Pain a distant memory. Her mind existed as only a lone whisp, floating within the Fade. Consciousness stretched and pulled. Time slowed. The bonds grew taut, fibers fraying in a halo of broken threads.

Something coiled deep within.

It reached with clawed fingers and cut the cord.

A veil lifted. Life exploded in pinpoints of light. It was all clear now.

“Natalie!”

A hand shook her and her eyes snapped open, the world awash in a haze of pale purple. Blood no longer welled behind her hand. Her fingers found the hole in the leather between her breastplate and pauldron, where the blade had slipped neatly through. Smooth skin. A faint scar.

“Are you well?”

His face swam in her vision. Worried. He was worried. And sad. So very sad. He mourned. She wanted to comfort him.

Another stood beyond him, white hair blowing in the faint breeze. The weight of his responsibilities lay on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He had not been ready for any of this. She would help ease his burden.

And the dark haired female. So strong and sure. Young face concealing an old soul. But she feared. She grasped. She needed to be shown a better path.

“Are you well?”

Her eyes returned to the first face. “Yes.” She replied, her voice echoing. Amplified into a dozen more.

“Natalie?” The white haired one took an unsure step toward her.

 _Natalie?_ A curtain crashed down and the haze cleared. Natalie shook her head, trying to rattle her scattered thoughts back into some sort of order. What the hell had just happened?

“I’m alright.” She managed a weak smile and rose shakily to her feet. “No harm done.”

Solas and Hale stood before her. One face creased with worry, the other impassive.

“Come on. I think we have an eluvian to find.” She pulled at them both, one with each hand.

The great, dark maw of the open Temple portal calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! The holidays are always so hectic. But here it is. I may take the week of Christmas off from updating. So be forewarned. I'm going to play that by ear.
> 
> But for real, guys, can we talk that announcement? Who else is hyped? Because I'm riding that hype train all the way to 2021 right now. #thedreadwolfrises


	35. Samson

Footsteps echoed in the dark passageway, the ragged sound of panting breaths the only other sound. Behind them, the clash of any lingering battle had long since faded. It seemed a little silly to Natalie to put a tunnel this long as the entrance to a Temple. But what did she know? She was just a human. A tired, fuzzy-headed human.

Her head swam as they walked, turning what had happened just outside the doors over and over. Healing had always come fairly easily for her. Only once before had she fallen away from herself the way she just had. When she had healed Rylen. And that time, she had pushed herself far past what was wise and had nearly been lost.

But she had never healed herself before. Was that the difference? Was it due to the exhaustion from the hours of running and fighting to make it to the Temple at all? Was she really possessed, as they had feared all those months ago? Varric has told her the story once, of his former friend in Kirkwall who had been possessed by a spirit of Justice. Anders. He had described Anders telling them that Justice was a part of him, that their thoughts were one.

She couldn’t recall ever feeling like her thoughts were not her own. There was no presence speaking to her. And yet. Yet she had not been Natalie Brooks for those few moments.

It bore thought. She would have to speak to Varric again. And to Solas. And maybe even suck it up and talk to Cole. Ever since their incident in the courtyard at Haven, she had avoided him. He liked to linger around the infirmary but she stayed far clear. It was obvious that he could tell what she was doing, and it made her feel like an asshole, but she couldn’t bring herself to get over the whole mind-reading thing.

If there was ever a time to get over it, now seemed like that time. Cole was a spirit. The best person equipped to answer these questions for her. As the light at the end of the long hallway grew larger, she resolved to approach him as soon as they got back to Skyhold.

“That must be the Temple of Mythal.” Hale’s whisper was harsh in the slumbering damp of the temple passage. With a finger across his lips, he motioned for them all to creep slowly against the mossy stone wall.

“Be ready. Corypheus will likely be there.” Solas replied as they moved forward toward the open portal.

The scene below stunned the breath from her lungs as they broke through the last of the darkness into the Temple courtyard. More of the golden-clad figures they had met on their long trek to the Temple faced off against a group of Red Templars and the towering, monstrous form of what she could only assume was their leader.

A hiss of indrawn breath and the thunderous expression on Hale’s face confirmed her suspicions. He was easily taller than Bull, casting a long shadow across the defending forces. His skin was snarled and twisted around the spikes of red lyrium jutting from his flesh. It was a vision from a nightmare. 

A deep voice rumbled through the stones, the words distinct even from their hiding place. “They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

Well of Sorrows? She thought that Corypheus was supposed to be after an eluvian. The sharp look that Hale threw Morrigan told her that he had the same thought.

He advanced, tattered clothing sweeping across the dirt as he rushed forward and seized the lead figure on the bridge by its throat. Golden armor glinted in the hazy sunlight as the guard’s legs struggled. In a flash so quick she nearly missed it, a barrier of white lightning lit the air. The mutilated body of the ancient magister went rigid as the magic flowed through his ruined flesh.

A metallic taste flooded her mouth as the air thickened with magical tension. The small hairs rose all along her arms. It built and built, the rigid being in front of them vibrating as it coursed through him. 

White light.

Heat.

The air left her lungs in a rush as shockwaves from the explosion sent them flying backwards. Her back hit the stone wall with a crack only moments before she found herself crushed beneath a heap of male body and dark hair as Dorian fell on top of her. Several seconds passed in a daze as she tried to orient herself, eyes seeking the solidarity of the ground and sky.

An explosion. What the hell?

Hale was the first to recover himself. He bounded to his feet with his usual nimbleness and dashed toward the railing as Natalie struggled to right herself and quiet the ringing in her ears.

Smoke hung in the air, mingling with the sick smell of charred meat as they descended the stairs. Bodies, or what was left of them, lay strewn across the ground. Blood pooled in the well-worn stones, painting them red. Natalie felt her stomach lurch, the sight of it hitting her in the gut.

“Is that it? Just like that?” Hale’s mouth hung open in surprise as he surveyed the rusty smear that was all that remained of Corypheus. It seemed too easy.

Dorian’s eyes searched the sky. “There is still the dragon…”

Solas wandered toward the bridge, his hand reaching out to run along the rough stone of the ruined pillars that had once flanked it. His eyes were shuttered, face smooth as always. Morrigan was studying the bloodied remains, a deep crease between her brows.

A sick lump of dread settled in Natalie’s gut. This was wrong. Something was wrong. “Guys…”

Faint squelching came from behind her. A wet, gurgling sort of noise that made her stomach rebel yet again. As much as her instincts told her not to look, her brain forced her head to swivel. The corpse of one of the Gray Wardens writhed on the ground, its bones moving beneath its cooling flesh. Sharp cracking noises sent trails of fear down her spine as the body twisted jerkily back and forth on the ground, limbs bent in impossible angles.

Natalie backed away, her heart racing so hard she could see the rapid rise of her chest beneath her thick leather breastplate. What the fuck? Her mind whirred in fear as she backed away, nearly slipping on the gore-streaked ground.

The corpse split open as a tall figure began to unfurl from inside of it.

“Impossible.” Dorian voice was hushed as they all watched with undisguised horror.

She could see the vague shape of the foe they had thought destroyed start to form from the bloody innards of the discarded corpse.

Hale’s mouth thinned into a hard line. “The bridge. Go.”

Hard fingers dug into her elbow as a hand guided her toward the long bridge, but she could not tear her eyes from the grotesque sight. How was it possible? How did someone die and then spring up out of the nearest dead body?

Darkness fell around them as they retreated, the sun disappearing. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. Time slowed to a crawl as she turned her face to the sky.

“Run.” Hale called above the growing buzz of the dragon’s approach.

With a deafening roar, the dragon swept across the courtyard spewing a rivulet of roiling flame at them.

“Run!”

“The doors!”

“Shut the doors!”

The shouted words were a jumble. She could no longer tell who was shouting. The Temple seemed to blur as her feet pounded across the ancient bridge. Fire licked at her heels as they dashed ahead of the burning morass. Breathing was difficult in between the pace of her feet and the racing of her heart as she closed the remaining distance to the great doors.

They heaved and pushed, the huge entry doors groaning on their disused hinges. A grunt rumbled through her chest as she threw her weight against them. Finally, they began to swing shut. The heat of the approaching dragonfire sizzled along her sweaty cheeks as they all pushed. Just as the heat grew unbearable and the flames were licking at the threshold, the great doors swung shut and a glimmer of shimmering magic washed over the newly sealed opening. A great force hit against the back of the doors, sending them all tumbling to the ground.

Natalie lay prone on the cool stone, her heart still beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. What a day. Explosions. Regenerating corpses. Dragons. And it wasn’t even over yet. It all seemed so impossible that she had to simply stare at the ceiling for a long moment in pure bewilderment.

She could hear the faint scraping of leather on stone as her companions picked themselves up off of the floor and brushed the dirt and char from their armor. Natalie supposed she ought to do the same, but she felt slightly stiff and frozen.

A long-fingered hand appeared before her face. “Are you well?” Solas asked as she allowed him to draw her up off of the ground. He took advantage of the brief moments of quiet to adjust one of her vambraces before cupping her face in both of his steady hands.

Natalie nodded. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t. She wanted to run screaming from this whole mess but she didn’t want anyone to be able to fault her participation in this mission.

His piercing eyes peered into her soul for a few more seconds before he released her. “That was certainly bracing.”

She couldn’t help the snort of dubious laughter that issued from her nose. “That’s one way to put it.”

“We should follow. Falling behind in unfamiliar territory would be inadvisable.”

Natalie turned and saw that the rest of their group had already started into the next chamber. “Ah. Probably right.”

As they hurried to catch up to the rest, Natalie looked up in wonder. The towering ruins of the outer walls were beautiful, intricately carved and overgrown with lush greenery. Seeing the Temple in its heyday must have been quite the sight. She was overcome with the sudden wish to do just that.

They overtook everyone else at the bottom of a set of wide stairs. Cassandra had rounded on Morrigan at some point and she did not looked pleased with the witch.

“You told us that Corypheus was after an eluvian, and now we hear him mention this “Well of Sorrows”. Which is it?” Cassandra’s face was stern, leaving no doubt that she expected a straight answer. 

Natalie almost felt bad for Morrigan for a moment as the other woman scratched her head, clearly trying to formulate a response. “I am… uncertain of what he referred to.”

“Are they the same thing? Maybe it’s just another name for an eluvian.” Hale interjected. 

Morrigan shook her head slightly in denial. “No. It seems we were incorrect about the prize that Corypheus seeks.”

“We?” Hale seemed unimpressed with her answer. Natalie had to agree. They had trekked all the way out here on the assurance that Morrigan knew what was hidden in these ruins, and now it looked like she was wrong. Hale crossed his arms over his chest and took a hard look at Morrigan, his mouth twisting into a hard line.

Morrigan gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes. I was wrong. Are you pleased?”

Hale simply snorted and turned toward the inner part of the ruins. “Whatever the Well is, we need to reach if before they do. Let’s go.”

“Can we talk about how we just saw Corypheus return to life? We saw him die.” Dorian good humor seemed to be in short supply at this point in the day.

“His life force must pass on to any blighted creature.” Morrigan replied.

A great furrow great between Solas’ brows as he considered this. “Then Corypheus cannot die. Destroy his body and he will assume another.”

The conversation trailed off as they group digested this new information, or perhaps she was too distracted to take notice of whatever words came next. 

The Temple of Mythal lay directly in front of them. Massive golden statuary flanking another set of colossal doors adorned with intricate carving. It was at once the most beautiful and the saddest place she had ever seen. Solas had shared pieces of the history of the elves with her as she had prodded him with a thousand and one questions about the things he had seen in the Fade. Tales of being of immortal power and beauty. Cities made of crystal towers in the trees. Spells that took years to cast, a mere drop in the bucket for an undying being. All of it lost. It seemed such a waste now that she was staring the reality of his people’s history in the face. 

The man himself seemed to be having similar thoughts as he took in the magnificent ruin around them. His face was closed off. His eyes dark as his mind wandered along with his eyes. She wanted to crawl into his head and curl up in his thoughts, if only to know how to ease them. 

A flash of blue light beneath her feet snapped her attention to the floor. She had been wandering, hardly paying attention to where she was walking. It was probably not the smartest thing to do in a ruin infested with god knows what. A square of flooring lit up beneath her. Natalie yelped and jumped backward back onto the stairs. 

“It appears the Temple’s magics are still strong.” Morrigan came to stand beside her, her eyes peering at half-obscured writing on a pillar a few paces in front of them. 

Hale took up a place on her other side, his eyes also fastened on the writing. “It’s elven, but I cannot translate most of it.”

“Atish’all vir Abelasan.” Solas’ voice was soft behind them. “It means ‘Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.’”

“A pilgrim’s path.” The thought came upon Natalie light a jolt of lightning in her brain. “You must complete the ritual.”

Hale stared at her with surprise. “Ritual?”

She stared at her feet and remembered the glowing stones. “I think you must light the stones.” She pointed to them before stepped forward once more. The ground came to life beneath her feet, glowing brilliantly in the midday shade.

Understanding dawned over Hale’s face for a moment before it darkened again. “How do you know that, Natalie?”

How did she know that? “I must have read it in a book somewhere.”

He did not look convinced, and neither did Morrigan.

Cassandra shook her head. “Perform a ritual to appease elven gods? I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” said Hale, decisively. He strode forward and the stones glowed under his boots. 

They had no way of knowing that that moment was going to define the next couple of hours. The initial puzzle only led them into a cavernous hall filled with three more. Even after a violent encounter with Corypheus’ lieutenant, Samson, Hale had argued ferociously that it was better to respect the Temple and its rituals than to simply plow through with swords drawn. A sentiment that was echoed heartily by Solas. So they proceeded, only to find that the next ones were not as easily solved as the first.

It took them an embarrassing amount of time to solve the three puzzles. Even with the rest of them helping Hale, he trod over the tiles time and time again. The melodic tones that were emitted as he did so started to grate on her nerves. Dorian turned out to be surprisingly good at all of it. In the end, he was the one who walked Hale through the last of it. 

Solas seemed surprisingly reticent as he stood by observing. His attitude puzzled her. She well knew that he loved puzzles and games of logic. He seemed very withdrawn, the opposite of how she assumed he would be when presented with all of this history and lore. Why wasn’t he nerding out right now? Very odd. Natalie gave him a questioning look but he simply brushed her off with a slight smile. 

After the final stone was lit, the third set of massive doors unlocked to allow them deeper into the Temple. It only seemed to get darker as they progressed in. Their feet echoed on the golden tiles adorning the floor of the towering chamber. Fires blazed in the braziers that lined the room. 

A whisper of magic prickled along the back of her neck. Beside her, Hale tensed. “We’re being watched.”

Indeed they were. 

A tall figure in golden armor appeared above them. Natalie cast a slow glance behind them to a row of archers adorned in similar attire. They were surrounded.

“Venavis.” The figure on the balcony called. “You are not like the other invaders. You have the features of the ones who call themselves elvhen. You bear familiar magic. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who disturbed our slumber?”

Hale faced the figure, his head high and his back straight. “They are our enemies as well.”

The figure considered this for a moment from beneath his deep hood. “I am called Abelas. We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. I know what you seek. You wish to drink from the Vir’Abelsasan.”

Morrigan’s head snapped up at his words. She whispered something to Hale in a hurried voice.

“It is not for any of you.” Abelas’ gaze seemed to bore into the witch.

“What is this Vir’Abelsasan?” Hale asked.

“It is a path, walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favor.” Abelas replied.

“We did not come to fight any of you, or to spoil this temple. We only seek to thwart our enemy.” Hale’s eyes were alight with purpose. 

Abelas seemed to think over Hale’s words before nodding. “I believe you. If you seek to drive these invaders from this place, we will aid you. You will then be permitted to leave, and never return.”

Morrigan was gripped by a fervor that shone from her eyes. “Consider carefully, Inquisitor. You may need the Well for you own.”

Anger rippled over Solas’ face for a moment before it settled into a calmer demeanor. “Inquisitor, please. There is no reason to fight these sentinels. They seek only to fulfill their duty.”

The air was tense between the group as Hale stared at the golden-clad sentinel. Natalie hoped they were not planning to fight these elves. The memory of one of their arrows embedded in her skin was too fresh for comfort. She did not need or want a repeat of that episode. Somehow, she didn’t think she would walk away from it a second time.

“We accept.” Hale’s words brought with them a sigh of relief.

Abelas’ posture snapped into military attention. “Very well. You will be escorted to those you seek. As for the Vir’Abelasan, I will destroy it myself before I see it despoiled.” With those parting words, he turned on his heel to disappear through yet another set of huge doors.

Morrigan’s breathing went ragged. “No!” She shouted. Her form became nothing but a cloud of smoke. Natalie stood there gaping as a single black bird flew after the sentinel.

“Morrigan!” Hale shouted. 

“The witch is going to get us all killed.” Cassandra muttered.

The look on Hale’s face was thunderous as he turned to them. “Let’s go.”

It did not take long for one of the sentinels to lead them through the Temple. The distinct clash of fighting echoed through the walls at points, signaling their need to beat Corypheus’ forces to the Well. As they hurried through the darkened hallways adorned with ancient statues and mosaics, she began to feel the thrum of anticipation in her veins. What exactly was exciting about this was a mystery. If she had any sense, she would have stayed behind with Cullen and his forces instead of following Hale into this ruin. And yet, she was dying with the need to see this Well. To find out its secrets.

They broke out of the Temple into a rear garden, the air cool and somehow thick with shadowed voices. They seemed to press in all around her. Calling out.  _ What on earth? _

“The Well of Sorrows.” Hale breathed in awe. 

In the courtyard below, Samson waited. Natalie’s head swam as Hale exchanged heated words with him. She could feel the harried whispers getting louder as they walked through the courtyard, although she could not understand any of the words. It was a feeling, like a compulsion. It wanted them to come closer. 

She followed the words that were not words as they fought Corypheus’ lieutenant. It was a furious battle, one that she fought from behind the hardest shield she could manage as they were battered from all sides. Her very teeth hurt from the amount of magic she had expended today. The massive Red Templar Knights put up a fight but eventually fell one by one until only Samson remained, on his knees before Hale with his armor broken. Slowly, the gaunt man in his ruined armor fell to the ground. 

“Morrigan!” Hale cried as the black bird flew past to the top of a cliffside ahead. 

Before he could be stopped, he dashed forward. 

“Hurry, we must follow!” Cassandra cried to the rest of them.

Hale was fast. Much faster than the rest of them. Natalie could feel the insistent call of  _ something _ that resided on top of the cliff. Something old. Something powerful. What exactly was this Well? Was it the consciousness of the goddess herself, somehow preserved? She shook her head at herself. A year ago, her deeply-entrenched skepticism would have prevented her from ever thinking such a thing. The consciousness of a goddess, indeed. Ridiculous.

But then again, that was before she was a mage who had traversed other dimensions and met dragons and animated corpses. She had to keep reminding herself that anything was possible now that the whole world made no sense.

There was no sign of Mythal’s defenders as they reached the top. Only Morrigan and Hale, who faced off beside a pool of perfectly still water. A huge eluvian, much like the one at Skyhold, stood on the other side.

The sense of overwhelming compulsion to do  _ something _ had intensified to an unbearable degree. It was unsettling how insidious it was. The something she had felt lurked within that glassy pool.

“I am prepared to pay the price the Well demands.” Morrigan argued with Hale.

“Please think this through, Morrigan. We do not know what will happen to the person who drinks from it.”

_ Drink that water? _ That seemed like a monumentally stupid idea. 

“I am the one who has been trained to best use its knowledge. It should be me.”

“It is my heritage, Morrigan!” Hale shouted.

“So you would take this knowledge and use only what little you can comprehend, only to let the rest go to waste?” Morrigan threw her arms out, her voice incredulous.

Hale’s jaw worked up and down. Natalie could almost hear his teeth grinding together, even over the deafening call of the Well. 

_ It wants someone to drink.  _ The thought popped into her head unbidden. The whispers coalesced into a single solid thought.  _ Drink. _

“If anyone is going to drink, it should be me.” Hale said, his words ringing with finality.

“Hale.” Natalie called out to him. She had to warn him. He did not seem to hear her, so she raised her voice and tried again. “Hale!”

He stopped his argument with Morrigan and looked at her. “Natalie?”

“I think you should be careful. That water... “ She trailed off as her eyes were drawn back to it. A deep sense of unease settled in her gut. “That water doesn’t just contain knowledge. It has… ideas of its own.”

Hale’s eyes searched her face for a moment before his mouth set itself into a hard line and he nodded. “I cannot let anyone else take this chance. It is my responsibility.”

Ripples spread over the smooth surface of the still water as Hale waded in slowly. It lapped greedily at his knees, a sucking morass that wanted to claim him for its own. Natalie’s gut churned with anxiety. This was a terrible idea. They should have just destroyed the Well rather than use it. She didn’t even have a logical reason for thinking that. Just a gut feeling. The whispers rang out like joyous bells as Hale cupped water in his two hands and raised them to his lips. 

With a roar, the water exploded around Hale, soaking the ground and all of the assembled company. She could see his slumped form bent double in the center of the now empty pool. 

“Hale!” She called. Fear twisted in her belly. What was that water doing to him?

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra’s voice mingled with her own. 

Natalie made to run to him but Solas caught her arm, pulling her back. She struggled against his grip to no avail. He pulled her backward and held her against his chest as they watched Hale. Tension shimmered across every nerve in her body. 

What was happening? Was he alive? Why wasn’t he getting up?

Finally, impossibly, Hale rose. His handsome face was slightly pale and dazed as he scrubbed his hands over it. Solas released her and they gathered around him as he swayed, his eyes glued to his feet. 

“Inquisitor. Can you hear me?” Cassandra put a hand to his sleeve, her face lined with worry. 

Hale brushed her off with a gentle wave and nodded slightly. Natalie could see his eyes come back into focus. Whatever that water had done to him, he was slowly acclimating. 

An angry cry from the Temple split the air. They watched in horror as the towering form of Corypheus rose into the air to fly toward them.

“The eluvian!” Morrigan shouted. 

“Everyone. Through the mirror!” Hale cried as the surface of the great mirror burst into brilliant blue light. 

They dashed toward it, the angry storm of their enemy nipping at their heels. One by one, they managed to slip into its icy grip until it shattered behind them from the other side.

Safe. 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some game dialogue in this chapter. Any of that belongs to Bioware and not me. 
> 
> Whew! This chapter was a beast to write. It makes me glad Natalie didn't tag along in any of the other main quests to this extent. (Although, she wasn't meant to even be here for this one.... She's stubborn.) Anyway, some exciting stuff I've been planning for a long time coming up soon, so stay tuned!
> 
> Thank you to all of you who are reading, and leaving comments and kudos. It seriously keeps me motivated. I love all of you. <3


	36. Come Undone

Skyhold did not seem prepared for their Inquisitor and his party to stumble, half-dazed and covered in blood and muck, from the side door to the gardens. The eluvian had barely closed behind them before the shocked gasps and outright screams of those less familiar with the sometimes unexplainable antics around the castle reached them. Hale, to his credit, marched between the horrified Chantry sisters and the scandalized noblemen with his head held high and a purpose in every step. A man on a mission.

It did not take long for word of the eluvian to spread. Even as Natalie retired to her rooms to strip her armor, she could hear the buzz of gossip below. The miraculous means by which they had beaten the rest of the army back to Skyhold by several days was on the tip of everyone’s lips, no matter how Morrigan and Hale had tried to suppress the information. How you explain away the group of them materializing in a room instead of riding through the gates, Natalie didn’t know. Even now, days later, it was the talk of the castle.

The castle was in an uproar, even beyond the eluvian incident. Hale and Josephine working tirelessly under the belief that it wouldn’t be long now until Corypheus launched a full on assault against them. Hale seemed certain that he would not wait. Would not try and gather this strength again before hitting them. He had made this declaration with a strange, faraway look on his face. They had whipped the troops who had remained behind and the quartermaster into a frenzy, desperate to be prepared for every eventuality. No one wanted a repeat of Haven.

To add to the drama, Solas and Hale had engaged in some kind of heated argument after their return. Raised voices drew her toward the rotunda only to have Hale storm past her in the doorway. There was an odd sort of look on Solas' face when she entered the room, angry and deadly calm. Neither man would tell her what they had been arguing about and she had to admit that she was burning with curiosity.

If she was honest with herself, she was only paying attention to all the goings-on to distract herself from a very necessary conversation she needed to have with a person she absolutely didn’t want to talk to. Her previous dealings with this certain person had left her feeling unsettled and anxious, and she had no wish to repeat that. Or maybe she was just terrified of what he might be able to tell her.

A nagging feeling of dread had been growing in the base of her skull for weeks now and was only exacerbated by the strange out of body experience she had had outside the Temple. The odd inklings of knowledge within. The strange brief glimpses of forms lurking beyond the Veil as they had traversed the Crossroads back to Skyhold’s eluvian.

She had yet to share with anyone the increasing frequency of such episodes. It felt like something in her subconscious had been shredded like Swiss cheese and all manner of things were leaking through, but only in fits and starts. Spurts of memory and brief, unintelligible snippets of conversations. And the nightmares. Ones so severe, she had avoided sharing her bed since their return.

Maybe she was going mad.

Maybe all of this was just a fever dream. Maybe she would wake up in a hospital in Chicago tomorrow, with all of this having been a fantasy cooked up by her mind as she lay in a coma. Somehow, she hoped that was not the case.

All of it had led her to this particular moment. Cool air plastered sweat-dampened strands of her hair to her heated cheeks as she gazed across the mountains to the glowing orb of the moon beyond the peaks. Her knuckles were white where she clung to the cold stone beneath her fingers, needing the assurance of something solid after yet another in a long string of terrifying dreams.

The faint sounds of revelry filtered across the courtyard to her. Music and laughter spilled into the night along with the warm light from the tavern windows. Natalie felt like a hideous specter, lurking in the darkness to watch the joy of others. It suited her mood just fine.

“Your thoughts are loud. Screaming silently. Searching for the truths you already know.” Cole’s faraway voice floated across the cold expanse to her, his words delivered almost in a singsong.

A long sigh slipped between her lips. She should have known that he would seek her out if she didn’t approach him. Everyone said he could hear thoughts, and his name had been in hers often enough.“Do I truly know them if I don’t remember the answers?”

“Truths known are not forgotten, only ignored.” Limpid blue eyes stared at her from under his shaggy, blond bangs as he glided to her side, his hands resting lightly at his sides.

Natalie’s shoulders drooped beneath the weight of a thousand unanswered questions. It was strange how he seemed to know what she was feeling. But perhaps not, considering what he was. “I have been meaning to talk to you.”

“I know.” He said simply as she stared into his fine-boned face. “You have been calling my name. I scare you. I did not want you to be scared.”

There seemed little point in denying it. “You do.”

“But now you want to ask me a question. You want help.”

Swallowing the bitter taste in the back of her throat, Natalie drew in a long breath as she steeled her nerves. It hissed from her lungs, shuddering on the way out. “I know you excel in helping people forget. But what about the opposite? What about helping recover lost memories?”

“She called out to you. Begging. Broken. Through your sleep, her pain rang like a bell. Awake. Alive. You ran to help.” He paused for a long moment, his eyes unfocused. “Hurry. Hurry. You have to hurry if you are going to help. _They are coming_.”

Natalie’s breath caught in her throat, her knees weak as they held her body upright. “Cole, will you help me remember?”

His clear, pale eyes burned into hers as they gazed past her face to what lay underneath. The merry sound of Maryden’s lute faded away and suddenly, she felt herself falling.

 

* * *

 

Stone hit her knees as she crumpled, but she felt neither pain nor cold. Her palms were flat against gray stone, cracked pavement visible beneath. This was a new feeling. She had never felt stone quite like this before. The air clung to her, thick and heavy with moisture. It filled her chest like syrup, dense like none she had breathed in before. And it _smelled_. Refuse. Smoke. An acrid, burning smell that coated the inside of her nostrils.

The cry that had roused her from her long sleep pierced the air once more. Eyes lifting, she scanned the unfamiliar, alien landscape. It was dark but not all at once. Light illuminated puddles on the strange stone, a haze of it obscuring the stars. The dark structures on either side blotting out the view of anything beyond. It was so unlike the cities she had seen before, so squat and ugly in comparison.

And yet… it could not be real. This had been constructed within the confines on this side of the veil. Constructed by something with great power. For what purpose?

A scream. It pulled her spirit in. She could no more refuse to follow than she could will herself to longer exist. It was a cry of terror. A plea for help. An animal in pain. Her heart bled within her chest.

She could feel the immense weight of raw power beating against the edges of her awareness. Ah, so this was some demon’s playground. Some very _old_ , very _powerful_ demon.

The wrenching screams grew louder. Whatever poor thing had found itself ensnared in this web was not having an easy time. She would put a stop to this. What was purpose for, if not to be fulfilled.

A slight form in pale blue flashed beneath the harsh light, bare feet slapping against the ground. Dark hair streamed in a billowing fray, twining around limbs in the haste to escape. A tiny mouse caught in much too large a trap.

Fear. Anger. Confusion. Desperation. The emotions beat against her, so strong she could almost taste them on her tongue. Beyond that, the growing swirl of malice threatened them both. A harsh cackle of laughter soaked in madness sounded over the terrified cries of the girl before her. Power stronger than any she had seen in many an age rolled down the street toward them, insidious fingers creeping toward them with unquenchable hunger.

 _Help! Please, someone help me!_ The soundless words came through a haze of tears.

She would put an end to this. And she needed to do so quickly. It was coming.

Her form sped toward the terrified girl, power crackling along her limbs. Heat burned in her form as light poured from within. She released a wave of energy, hoping to stave off the dark creature in pursuit.

“Come.” Her voice felt hoarse with disuse. “Hurry.” She extended her hand.

A shocked face stared back at her. Splotches of bright red stained the girl’s pale cheeks. Wide eyes with green barely visible beside pupils blown wide open regarded her from behind their film of tears, looking at her like she was a snake about to strike out and devour her. A swarm of roiling emotions nearly bowled her her over as the girl’s mind hit against her.

Scared. Indecisive. _Run._

The laughter behind them grew louder. Joyless but tinged with the thrill of the hunt. Towering, twin forms glided beneath the bright spots of light. She didn’t want to further terrorize this girl, but they needed to leave.

Now.

“You don’t have much time.”

Resolve hardened in the girl’s face as she finally reached out to grab her hand. She tugged her charge behind her as she fled.

Up. Up. Up. They had to get away, out of this torture chamber. She had to get this girl to safety, and then she would assess how best to help. From the flurry of images now flickering across her mind’s eye, this poor child had been party to something traumatic.

The howling below was at a fever pitch. Power pulled at her, sucking her body toward the black figures frothed in their haste to capture their prey. Hunger burned in their bellies. It drove them.

She surged forward, pushing away from the black morass of their combined consciousness. They would not best her, but she could not risk a confrontation when she cared for such a fragile being.

It was so close. So close to freedom. To safety.

A sharp tug on her arm brought them to a halt. A wave of pain washed over her as the girl screamed. It was a furious struggle. She would not let them take the girl. They would not let her go. Teeth flashed beneath dark hoods, sinister faces in grotesque masks. Her arms ached as she pulled, sending bolts of sizzling energy toward them.

The pale, terror-stricken face of the girl between then stared up at her. Green eyes begging for help as her fingers began to slip. For mercy. For her.

With a furious howl and a piercing shriek, the girl’s hand left hers.

Screams.

Laughter.

The metallic tang of blood in the air.

No.

Horror washed over her, leaving a sick feeling in her gut. Pain and terror hit her brain. So much pain.

No. She would not let them win.

“No!” Her voice rang out.

A halo of bright light winked into existence around her as she plummeted toward the two nightmare creatures. It grew more vibrant as she neared them, billowing out to chase away the darkness and despair. The twin abominations shrieked in pain as they felt the heat of all the power she had been storing over her long hibernation.

With a final rush of release, the world around her went white.

Silent.

Warm.

As the light faded, only the dimly flickering form of the girl’s ravaged spirit remained. Her weak essence was shredded nearly beyond recognition. She had saved her, but only just. And for how long? There was so little left.

The path was clear.

She settled a warm hand along the girl’s nearly transparent cheek as her knees met the ground.

A soft gasp of breath. The girl’s spirit wavered, dimming dangerously.

“Hush, dear one.” She crooned. “It’s almost over.”

Fingers moved from cheek to forehead, sinking into the rapidly dissipating spirit before her.

“You will not die here.” She would turn it back. Erase this horrible event from the timeline of her life.

For a brief moment, foggy green eyes opened and met her own. _Thank you._ The words crossed her mind, even though they were not spoken aloud. Creases on a pale brow eased, leaving smooth skin behind as the body dimmed.

She gathered what she could, drawing it close to her chest. Alien tendrils of unfamiliar energy crept into her mind. A rainbow of memories and emotions bowled her over as she pushed herself back, allowing this new information to the forefront.

Natalie.

Her name was Natalie.

A groan tore from her lips as the blocks fell into place within her. The new overlapped the old. Melding. Fusing.

Destruction and creation.

She was twenty nine years old.

Images flashed behind her tightly closed eyes.

Tall buildings made of steel and glass. Friends gathered around a tall table in a smoky room, laughter shining on their faces. A burly man with a graying beard handing her a strange square cap with pride in his eyes.

She was from Chicago. Daughter of Charles and Diane.

Blood on her hands as she pressed her palms down over the wound on a young man’s leg as he grimaced in pain. The joyous tears of a woman as she held a wrinkled newborn, just minutes old.

She was a nurse.

A hand over her mouth. A man recoiling as she spit in his face. A curse. Pain. A flash of light. Darkness.

Her limbs registered the hard bite of the ground beneath her as they solidified from their normally somewhat immaterial state. She could feel the sharp pain of something dislodged in her chest as she took a breath. Warmth spread, soaking the pale blue fabric of her shirt. It hurt.

She hurt.

Why did she hurt?

Bleary eyes opened to a blaze of green light. She clawed toward it, dragging her broken form along the ground. Somehow, the crackling portal meant freedom. If only she could reach it. She could feel the last well of her power within. And she used it now. Used it to escape.

Second became minutes. Minutes stretched into what seemed like hours. At last, her freedom was at hand. As she stretched her trembling hand toward the freezing world beyond, the girl’s form dimmed and winked out.

 

* * *

 

Air. She needed air. A crushing weight sat on her chest, hampering her ability to draw a deep breath.

A cool hand pressed against her forehead. “Slowly.”

 _Cole_. That was Cole’s voice. At last, her protesting lungs expanded and she could breathe again. Cold wind beat against her flushed and sweating face. She could feel the hard stone pressing against her back.

Natalie opened her eyes, a blanket of stars visible through a watery fog. Numbly, she reached up to wipe at the moisture on her cheeks. Tears. When had she started crying? She sat up slowly, feeling somehow disjointed from her own body.

Cole slight form hovered over her, clear eyes searching her face. Natalie stared back, still reeling.

It all made sense now. Her magic. Why she excelled in healing and struggled in other areas. Her ability to walk the Fade. Healing Rylen. The behemoth.

Not the feats of a human. It had been a spirit who had helped her do those things. It had been _her._

The _nightmares._

No. Not nightmares. She knew better now.

Memories.

Her visions in the crossroads. Not visions.

Memories.

The knowledge in the Temple.

More memories.

All along, her mind had been trying to tell her and she had ignored it. Too scared to look into it any further.

She wasn't Natalie Brooks. Or was she? What was she? Was she human or spirit? Was she both? She didn't feel like anything other than just… Natalie.

Her head pounded as she looked into Cole's eyes. He simply stared back, a tiny smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this right here.
> 
> First chapter of the new year! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season and a happy new year!


	37. Breathe Me

“Am I dead?” The question had been burning away at the inside of her mind as she stared into Cole’s face with its slight smile. It left her feeling dizzy and drained.

“Dead? But you are right here.” Cole cocked his head to one side, his expression one of polite confusion. It was clear he did not understand why she was asking such a preposterous thing.

“I…” What had she meant? She was breathing. Her heart was beating in her chest. Her brain was still firing signals into her nervous system, telling it to move and talk and blink. In the biological sense, she did appear to be alive. Despite her Catholic upbringing, she had never been much of a believer. But what if this was the afterlife? The idea was ludicrous. Thedas was very, _very_ far from the vision of fluffy clouds and white clad angels her Sunday school teacher had told her about as a child. This was no one’s paradise. “Is Natalie alive?”

“You are Natalie. Does that not make her alive?”

Through the riot of emotions and conflicting ideas that were currently bouncing around in her skull, she felt the spark of a brand new one. Anger. “Am I?”

“Who else would you be?” Cole’s eyes were clear as a summer day in the looming darkness. He seemed so sincerely curious. So innocently puzzled. It was hard to imagine he was screwing with her.

”Oh, I don’t know.” She replied, words tinged with bitterness. “Maybe some kind of crazy spirit who stole someone else’s life.”

“You have stolen nothing. She asked for help and you were there to answer. She was flickering. Fading. Dying. You saved her.”

“See! Right there.” Natalie’s voice jumped an octave as she pointed a finger at him. “She. You’re talking about this as if I’m not the same person. But you said I am Natalie.”

Cole stared at her for long moments, those piercing eyes searching her very soul. “She was her. And you are you. But you are also her.” His statement was plain as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It was too much. This was insanity. Warmth pooled in the spaces around her eyes. A pressure built in her chest. No. She would not break down. She would not allow someone else to see her this way.

“I’m sorry, Cole. I…” She began, her tongue growing thick. Swallowing the words. Natalie rose to her feet and darted down the darkened battlements, making for one flight of great stone stairs that led down into the keep proper.

She ran. She ran until her lungs burned. Until her thighs hurt. She ran, and she did not stop until the heavy wood of her door was closed firmly behind her back. It was only then she allowed it all to sink in.

The question that nagged at her the most was… Did she believe it? She didn’t remember being a spirit. She didn’t remember the Fade. She didn’t remember the event she had been shown as anything more than a nightmare that plagued her for months.

She had seen the vision of the spirit as an entity outside of herself as she healed Rylen. Did her awareness of herself as Natalie Brooks make it so? Or did her, allegedly, true nature as a spirit of this world make Natalie nothing more than a delusion?

What made a person who they are?

Despite the stinging pain in her eyes, the tears would not come. A hollow feeling bloomed in her chest as her legs gave out beneath her. The cold floor rose to meet her as she slid down the door, the rough wood catching and pulling at the loose strands of her hair.

Lies. Life was nothing but lies. It made her wish she really had just lost her mind. That would be so much more bearable than… whatever this was.

Natalie Brooks died on that muggy night in July. Died alone in a pool of blood, on a lonely sidewalk. Died alone in a city where she was nothing more than a statistic.

Time became a fleeting concept as the cold from the stone floor sank into her bones, freezing them in place. Toes went numb. Followed by feet. Then ankles. Legs. Until there was nothing left but a marble statue in the shape of a body she wasn’t even sure truly belonged to her. It wasn’t until the warmth of the dawn sunlight crested the mountains and fell across her face that she felt anything again.

Natalie took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It was as if she was seeing the room for the first time. Jumbled thoughts spilled forward again, freed from their frozen slumber. Knees cracking, she pulled herself from the floor and stretched her disused muscles. This body felt a thousand years old.

Icy fingers began to peel away the layers of her day-old clothing. They clung to her skin, stiff and stinking, and fell to the floor in scattered and forgotten pieces. Cool air kissed her bare skin as she broke the ice coating the surface of the jug she had forgotten on her bedside table. Her brain moved thoughtlessly through the familiar motions. Dunk the cloth. Wring it out. Drag it across her skin. The comforting pattern of the activity lulled her raging thoughts.

She lost herself in it. Lost herself in washing away yesterday’s sweat. Yesterday’s memories. When she had satisfied herself with scrubbing each inch of her skin pink and stinging cold, she dropped the soiled cloth in the water. Forgotten.

A soft blue tunic and pale gray leggings met her in her drawers, the first clean garments she saw. Good enough. She shook them out and pulled the cloth over her skin, feeling the comforting hug of the woolen fabric as it chased away the chill.

Grit lodged itself beneath her nails as she scratched them over her scalp, shaking out the knots from her long hair. The strands spilled over her hands, cool and heavy. With a long sigh, she closed her eyes and began to braid. One strand. Two. Three. Over. Under. She pulled the chunks of hair tight, smoothing the curls into a well-ordered plait. As long as something could still be orderly about her life, maybe it would be okay.

A light knock came against the door just as she tied off her braid with a thin strip of leather cord. Faint tapping that roused her the rest of the way back to awareness. Walking in a haze, she crossed the room to answer the door.

Solas stood beyond the doorway, the bright morning light glinting off of his plain clothing and smooth scalp. A sharp twinge of pain shot through her chest at the sight of him. How as she supposed to tell him all of this?

“You have been avoiding me.” His voice was a balm on her frazzled mind.

It was true, though. She had been avoiding him somewhat in the days since their return from the Arbor Wilds. Another thing to feel guilty about. Natalie swallowed thickly and stepped back to allow him into the room. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at her with a strange, unreadable look in his eyes as he stepped toward her and placed a warm hand on her chilled shoulder. “I meant it in humor, not to make you feel guilty. You once threw those same words at me.”

“I remember.” Her skin squirmed under his touch, unable to bear the thought of him in contact with this alien form she now knew she inhabited. It was invasion of the body snatchers, except she had done the snatching. It felt somehow wrong to use it, knowing its original owner couldn’t consent. Nausea began to churn in her stomach.

But he missed nothing. He saw her flinch and his hand fell away. “You have not been to sleep.”

A statement. Not a question. Her throat worked, the words sticking on their way out. “What are you doing here?” She finally spit out, immediately regretting how confrontational she sounded.

Something sparked in his eye as he cocked his head. “Cole came to me. He seemed to think that I should come and find you. That you needed help.”

Choice words came to mind as she cursed silently to herself. Perhaps later she would thank Cole for this, but for now all she could feel was the cold fire at the base of her skull and a flush of blood across her cheeks. He had no right to include anyone else in this. “Cole should mind his own business.”

“It is not in his nature to do so. Especially since the Inquisitor gave him leave to indulge his true purpose.” Solas replied, closing the door behind him. “I did not come here to discuss Cole.”

Natalie crossed her arms protectively over her chest to still her trembling hands, her fingers digging into the flesh on her biceps. “Then what did you come for?” Again, she couldn’t stop the harsh words from falling from her lips.

“It is obvious that something is troubling you.” His fingers flexed and stilled. A flicker of a dozen different emotions moved in the depths of his eyes, emotions she didn’t have the presence of mind to decipher as they stared at one another. Finally, his shoulders shook with a long sigh and he raised both of his hands to cup her cheeks. “You can share this burden. I am here to help.”

The shame of his hands on her skin warred with the intense desire to turn into his palms within her. Heavy ice in the pit of her stomach cracked and shuddered. She wanted to tell him. Wanted to share this truth that had rooted into her brain and pushed away rational thought. He deserved to know.

But she was terrified. She felt the fear of his reaction sick and solid inside her.

It was his eyes that put the final nail in her proverbial coffin. Deep and icy blue, they stripped her bare. Somehow, he always managed to do that to her.

The tears that had threatened the night before finally sprang forward as her mental levees broke and released the flood. She dashed a furious hand across her cheeks as she dodged out of his grasp and crossed the room. “I think you should sit down.”

“Natalie. You are stalling.” Solas clasped his hands behind his back, assuming a heartbreakingly familiar stance.

It seemed it was time.

Like a tidal wave, the whole sordid tale spilled from her mouth and crashed against the walls, spreading like blood across the floor between them. The nightmares. The visions. The unbidden knowledge in the Temple and the experience of being another person as she healed herself outside. All the things she hadn’t said. All the feelings she hadn’t shared. Everything she had hidden from everyone, lest they think she had finally lost her mind completely.

Sure, he had known she had been having nightmares. But now she told him what they had contained, what had haunted her in the dark all of those nights. And finally, how the memories Cole had helped her unearth matched them. How she was the not the terrified girl, but the mysterious spirit. How she had watched as the girl who had been Natalie was absorbed and her ethereal flesh became solid and painful. The last desperate crawl toward the rift and the cold beyond.

Natalie stilled her furious pacing and stared at him as the words finally stopped flowing. The final moments of Natalie’s life lay between them like a heavy door slamming shut. His gaze was not on her, but the wall beyond. It was obvious to her that there were quite a few thoughts going through his mind at once.

She worried at the cuticle of her thumbnail with her teeth as she waited for him to respond. Tension was thick in the air and heat prickled along the back of her neck. Jesus, what was he thinking? It was killing her.

“It certainly makes sense.” He answered, after long moments of silence. His voice calm and even.

That was it? That was all he had to say? “Does it.” Her reply was flat.

“It explains a great many things, to be honest. If you expended what power you had to recreate yourself into a body, it would have taken time for you to regain enough to be able to wield magic again. Abilities would return as it grew.” Solas tapped his fingers against his bottom lip as he studied her. “Your awareness of the Fade, as well. Spirits are at home in the Fade, so it stands that you would be.”

Natalie made a noncommittal noise in her throat. More of a grunt than anything, really. But he paid her no mind. “But a spirit melded with a human. It could be some kind of possession, perhaps. Do you remember what you were like before you came to this world? Your personality? Has it changed?” He asked.

Natalie shook her head, confused. “My personality. Do spirits even have personalities?”

“Of course they do. And humans certainly do.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “But I’m not a human.”

He ceased his tapping and gave her a strange look, his eyes narrowed. “What gave you that idea?”

“Because it’s true? Because I’m a spirit who… what, stole the life of some poor human she found in the Fade? Like some kind of fucking parasite living in someone else’s skin.” Bugs crawled in her limbs, making her wish she could shed this borrowed skin she was trapped within. Her nails left stinging trails on her arms as she scratched at them in a futile effort to stop the horrible creeping in her veins.

Solas crossed the room to her and grasped her harried hands, stilling their destructive progress. “Is that really what you think?”

Natalie shook him off, her movement jerking and violent. “Of course it is. What else am I supposed to think?” She shouted, feeling the inevitable weight of unshed tears in her eyes and throat.

The meltdown was coming. It wasn’t willing to be put off anymore. Natalie heaved a deep breath, desperate to choke it down. Desperate to stay strong. She had spent too much of her time here being weak. Apparently, she would have to pick another day to turn over a new leaf, because her broken and splintered mind was not willing to let her deny it any longer. “I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

Hot, salty tears poured down her face as she stared at the floor, unwilling to look at him. Silent sobs shook her shoulders as all the stress blew through her like a summer storm. Grief, sharp as broken glass, tore into her chest. What was she even grieving? Which lost life? The one she didn’t remember, or the one she wasn’t sure she had a right to call hers? At some point, warm arms encircled her. They held her steady as she let everything fall from her eyes.

She would be strong tomorrow.

When the last of the tears had dried and the roaring in her head had faded to a faint buzz, he spoke. “A spirit given of sufficient purpose and power could also give itself life.”

Natalie raised her head from his chest to look at him. “You mean like Cole?”

“Yes and no. Cole has a form, but he remains a spirit at his core. I mean a life fully of this world. A physical form in which it could then leave its existence and become something other than a spirit. Cole could have become fully human but that was not his path.” His eyes took on a faraway quality as he continued. “It is not something to be undertaken lightly. One would need a very compelling reason to want to sacrifice one life for another.”

Sacrifice. Natalie mulled over his words. Had she sacrificed herself? Was that why she couldn’t remember being a spirit?

“Can I tell you what I think?” He asked.

“When do you ever not tell me what you think?”

He let out a rueful huff, but didn’t deign to answer. “Examine your memories. Think about who you were before you came here from your world. I think you may find the answer to who you are within.” He unwound his arms from around her and took a step back to look fully into her face. “Perhaps you sacrificed your present to give her a chance at a future.”

It was an answer that left her with nothing but more questions. His calm voice had done nothing to truly make her feel better about any of this. Calm. He was so calm. “You are being very casual about all this.” Her brows scrunched together. Solas was a friend and student of spirits, to be sure, but shouldn’t finding out he’s been sleeping with one elicit more of a reaction than curiosity? Why wasn’t he more surprised by all of this?

“How did you expect me to react? I am no stranger to spirits.”

“I mean, I know that. But you don’t even seem shocked by any of this.” She squinted at his face, her mind whirring. Why wasn’t he surprised? It as almost as if he had been expecting it. A greasy, ugly thought snaked into her brain as she stood there. Had he been expecting this?

The more she considered it, the more the horrible feeling grew in her gut. It sat there like a burning coal. He was a dreamer. She had lain next to him and experienced horrible nightmares. Nightmares he had to have seen. They had walked the Fade together, he had seen her stripped of physical form and left with her soul laid bare. For someone who knew so much about spirits, it had likely been obvious.

She was a fool.

Her feet took a halting step backward as his gaze followed her, his eyes steady but intense. “You knew.” The words came out as a breathy exhalation. “That’s why you’re not surprised. You knew about this.”

Solas shook his head. His mouth opened and then snapped closed. Conflict flickered across his features. “I did not know, only suspected.”

“Why?” She breathed, feeling like a fist had been driven into her stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sad resignation settled on his face. “I did not want to upset you until I was sure.”

She felt like she should be angry, but the fire had been well and truly doused. There had been too many cruel revelations today and she had no more energy to spare dwelling on them. His words echoed in her mind and fell into the deep blackness in her chest where only a hollow emptiness remained where her heart had once resided.

Gathering the scattered dregs of her wits, Natalie crossed to the door with wooden steps. Carefully, she pulled it open and stared at him with blank eyes. “I can’t discuss this anymore. I think it would be best if you left.”

His feet shuffled softly against the stone as he moved to the door. The sound halted before her as he looked down into her face. For a single, heart-stopping moment, his eyes cleared. They were filled with a wealth of long-held emotions. Sadness. Guilt. Regret. Too much to be only for her. An instant later, it was all hidden carefully away. “Maybe it is for the best. Dar’eth shiral, vhenan.”

Then he was gone, and the door shut with a cold finality behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this was a hard one to write. Ugh
> 
> I want to start off by saying thank you to all of you who are reading and enjoying this story. Know that this is not even nearly the end. :) 
> 
> I meant to have this up earlier this week, but I got sucked in to Holly Black's new book and had to spend a day binge reading and then another salty as hell that I have to wait a year for a conclusion. Anyone else read The Wicked King yet? grrrr.


	38. About You Now

Natalie found herself in the infirmary a lot  in the following days, showing up early in the morning and leaving late into the evening. Too exhausted to do anything other than sleep. Any menial task was fair game.  She washed bandages.  She stocked shelves.  She organized bottled of medicines and badgered the apothecary with questions on how each could  be made . Familiar activity became a balm to her wounded soul. Her work had taken such a backseat in recent weeks, as she had let herself flit off with Hale to play hero. 

A role she wasn’t sure she was fit to play anymore. 

Long work hours had the welcome side effect of not allowing her any time to talk to anyone about the things she had learned. She wanted no one to know. Not until she had the time to figure it out herself. It was clear by how most of them treated Cole that her news would not elicit a favorable reaction from the masses. So she kept away, and kept quiet. Even from Hale, whom she loved like her own blood.

Cole was the only one she spoke to at all.  He had made himself known to her in the clinic, whispering quiet words of comfort in her ears when no one was around. His presence, once terrifying, now brought her a strange sort of calm. Cole was safe. She didn’t have to hide from him. S worn to secrecy concerning her true nature, he had, so far, refrained from spilling the beans to anyone she knew of.  He remained one of only two people who knew, and the other… well, she trusted Solas to keep personal things to himself without having to tell him to. If there was one thing he had proven himself good at, it was keeping secrets.

Despite the familiar surroundings and the quiet company, the transition back to the isolation she had forced upon herself when she first arrived was an odd one. It had become routine to spend her free time with someone, to share her bed and her nights. Now those sheets were cold and empty, and all she felt was sadness where she was she was certain she should feel anger. The fire had gone out of her, doused by a proverbial cold, wet blanket. She doubted she could summon anger if she wanted to.

Rashvine crushed beneath her hands as she stood in the Undercroft, her sleeves rolled up beyond her elbows and her apron smeared with oils and pastes, her long braid hanging down her back in a sweaty rope. Elan, Skyhold’s apothecary, usually kept an eagle eye on her as she worked. The elven woman didn’t yet trust her not to screw it all up. Today, however, she had deemed Natalie ready to complete this alone. She had left Natalie in the Undercroft with a stern word that she would be back later to check on things. Somewhere behind her, Dagna and Harritt were arguing over what metal to use on some sword they were forging. Their amiable bickering and her busy hands were a welcome distraction.

How long had she been down here? Her sense of time had become skewed somewhere between earth-shattering revelations and daily drudgery. At some point, she would  have to  emerge back into the regular life in the castle.  _ But not today. _

Cole occupied a stool next to her at the sturdy wooden table. Blue eyes hidden beneath long, blonde bangs watched her every move as if he was afraid she was going to do something drastic any moment. 

“You don’t have to keep me company.” She told him between twists of the pestle against the stone mortar, the rashvine turning to a fine, red paste beneath it.

“I am not keeping you company. I am learning.”

“Ah, so is that why you keep following me around? You want to learn to be a healer?”

“I want to help.” He said, without clarifying what he was aiming to help with. Natalie suspected it was one of those ambiguous, dual-edged statements he was so fond of making. 

“Well, then help. You’re handy with a blade.” The pestle clinked as she dropped it and wiped her hands against her apron for the hundredth time that afternoon. A bundle of spindleweed lay on the end of the bench, cleaned and waiting to be chopped. “I need those stripped of their leaves and the stalks chopped thin and even.” She took hold of her working knife and handed it to him. 

Cole’s bewildered look as he stared at the knife in his hand put a smile on her face. “What are we making?” He asked, turning the blade over in his palm.

At that, Natalie couldn’t help the bitter laugh that bubbled up in her throat. “Potions of spirit resistance.” 

For some reason, the idea of her and Cole making these particular potions, of all people, was the most hilarious thing she had heard in a long time. Her shoulders shook as a rush of giggles overtook her. The bickering behind her stopped and she could feel Harritt and Dagna’s combined gaze on her back as she leaned over the worktable, her elbows keeping her propped up as the laughter continued unabated. 

Cole looked utterly dumbfounded as he gazed at her. No doubt he thought she really had lost it this time.  _ Maybe I have _ . She thought, wiping moisture from her eyes.

“It’s nice to see the Undercroft so cheery today.” The voice was light but edged in razor wire. 

Natalie stopped her hysterical laughter long enough to glance back at Hale standing near the doorway. “Sometimes laughter is the only thing that keeps you from losing it.”

Hale’s face softened at her words, his mouth twisting into a rueful smirk. “Ah, I believe I’ve said something very similar to you in the past.”

Natalie nodded, the mirth finally settling down. “Indeed you have.”

His feet were silent as he crossed the room, throwing a quizzical look at Cole. Hale was well aware how unsettling she found the spirit. The exact word she used may have been  _ horrorshow.  _ Looking back, she felt distinctly queasy at her harsh phrasing. The snap judgement may have been unfair. “Cole, can you give us a minute?”

“A minute?” Cole looked puzzled. “Oh, you want me to leave.”

“Just for a minute.” Hale paused as Cole nodded glumly and drifted away toward the door. 

Hale boosted himself up, settling himself on the table beside her herbs and supplies. He looked like a child dangling his feet over the bank of a river with his legs crossed and swinging lightly. A tall, gangly child.

Natalie swatted at his leg. “Oi, you’re interrupting. And you chased off my assistant.”

“And?” He replied, a saucy look on his face. “It seems that’s the only way I’m going to get you to pay attention to me.”

“Poor baby, have I been ignoring you too much?” Natalie scrunched her face in mock sympathy as she turned back to her mortar and pestle. 

“Nat, I haven’t spoken to you since we got back from the Arbor Wilds. You’re most certainly ignoring me.” Hale twirled a stray piece of spindleweed between his fingers. “What is going on with you?”

Natalie willed her face into a mask of calm. “Nothing. I’ve just been busy with things.”

“That’s utter bullshit and you know it.”

“Its not. Mother Giselle has kept me very busy.’

Hale clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head. “See, that’s where I’m sure you are lying, because the Revered Mother herself approached me not an hour ago and told me that she is concerned about you. She said that you are working yourself to the bone and they can’t get you to leave and rest.”

For the first time in days, she felt the first stirrings of anger at the base of her skull. The pestle against the mortar with more force than before, the herbs pulverized beneath it. “Did she? Isn’t that interesting.”

“It is.” His big hand fell on top of hers, stilling them. “Nat, talk to me.”

Natalie considered his words for several long moments, feeling the weight of his eyes on her face as she stared blankly at the worktable. What could she tell him? It felt wrong to keep it all from him, but she couldn’t risk anyone else finding out. So she settled for the sparest explanation she could manage. One she hoped would discourage him from prying further. “Just a bit of a lover's quarrel. I just need to be busy.” 

_ Technically the truth. _

“Ah, i see. So are you two…?” His hand squeezed hers.

Finally, she raised her gaze to meet his. “Over? I don’t know… but I'm afraid we may be.”

“I’m sorry.” Hale’s free hand came up to rest against her cheek. The warmth of his touch shattered something inside of her that she had been keeping carefully encased in ice for days. 

“You don’t have to worry. I can be a professional and work with him with no issue, if you need me to. This will not affect any Inquisition business whatsoever.” The words rumbled out in a torrent. 

“Natalie, I’m not here because I’m worried about the Inquisition. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

A strained smile tugged at her lips. “I will be.”

Deep in her chest, an ache sprouted. She wanted nothing more than to spill the entire tale to him. It would be a great relief for him to know. He was accepting of Cole, with all of his idiosyncrasies. What was to say that he wouldn’t be accepting of hers also?

She would consider it, but not now. 

Hale dropped his hand from her face. “I want you to know that we’re leaving tomorrow. It won’t be more than a week or so.” Hale’s foamy green eyes were regretful. “I am taking him with me.”

“Leaving? Where are you off to this time? I thought you were sure that Corypheus would be rushing to attack now?” She felt a momentary twinge of panic. What if the attack came when they were gone? When Skyhold was vulnerable?

“Cullen and Morrigan think we still have time, and I agree with them. I think we know how to defeat him, but we need to make a stop to be able to do that.”

“Defeat him? You mean how he’s regenerating?”

“Yes. I don’t know for certain yet, but I think we’re going somewhere that will tell us for sure.” Teeth chewed at his bottom lip. His voice was soft when he continued, “They’re talking to me.”

“Who?”

“The spirits from the Well.”

She cocked her head to the side. He couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying, right? “What do you mean, they’re talking to you?”

A long sigh left his chest. “They’re in my head. They whisper things to me. That’s why we’re taking this trip, it was their idea.”

“I see.” I told you so was probably inappropriate right now. “That is concerning.”

“I think so too. I don’t like it.” He looked at her with baleful eyes. “I wish I let Morrigan drink.”

Natalie’s heart broke for him. She knew very well how he felt, at this point. Reaching out, she moved to wind her arms around his waist and leaned against his chest. The position was awkward, with his perch on her table, but she made it work. Hale’s shoulders slumped as he rested his upper body against her and hugged her. “It will be alright, Hale.”

A vibration tickled her cheek as he laughed softly. “Look at us. Both a mess, yet again.”

“When are we not?” Her lip quirked in the first genuine smile she had felt the urge to express in days.

“True. Very true.”

 

* * *

 

Hale’s departure brought with it a sense of freedom, releasing a small portion of the heavy weight that had settled itself on her chest. With the two people she cared about most gone, the pressure to avoid everyone lessened. Because, in the end, she didn’t really care what the rest of them thought. That realization had been like a ray of light in the darkness. Her secrets were a on a need to know basis, and none of them had a need.

She persisted in her dogged devotion to the clinic, but gave herself the time to breathe. And to think.

Hours were spent in the Skyhold gardens, reveling in the earthy scent of medicinal beds as she began a covert research campaign into accounts of spirit possession. It was clear that she needed a greater understanding of the relationship between fade spirit and physical form before she could understand her own nature. For the moment, she had to accept her current circumstance. There was no clear way to right any of this and there would be no way to resolve it if she wallowed in self-loathing the whole time. 

For now, she would let herself be Natalie. After all, she couldn’t very well insist that she wasn’t without raising suspicion.

It was on one such afternoon, as the chill air had just begun to give way to the first warm tendrils of spring, that the seed of an idea sprouted in her brain. Solas had told her many months ago spirits crossed over in areas where the Veil was thin or when called by a mage with sufficient power to do so. She recalled his melodic voice speaking at length about the nature and purpose of spirits, all the way back in Haven. Long before they had been anything more than friends. An ache grew in her chest as she remembered those quiet days, shared between them in the peaceful warmth of his small cabin. She missed the simpler time. Missed his quiet companionship. The way he would talk at length, his words exploring into tangents and abstract ideas.

Thinking on it now, that had to be how she had made her way from Earth into the Fade in the first place. The Breach must have thinned whatever barriers existed between the two worlds. It was the only explanation of how she had gotten through. And if she had gotten through… other humans may have also. In fact, it seemed arrogant to assume she was somehow special. 

Natalie snapped the book shut and rested it against her chest as the leaves unfurled. What were the chances that other people had made that journey? What was the chance they had survived it? After all, she had gotten lucky to be found by people who could help her. Once the thought was there, it was a twisting vine of sturdy ivy. Clinging and hard to kill. It just wasn't clear yet what she should do with it. She needed more information. 

Tapping her fingers against her bottom lip, her brain raced around in circles. The one place she knew she could come across more information was the one place she really,  _ really  _ did not want to go. Even in Solas’ absence, she had been avoiding the rotunda. But if she returned whatever book she borrowed before they returned… 

Before she could analyze it too much, she was off her bench and across the garden. Outraged cries followed her as she nearly bowled over one of the Chantry sisters. No time to worry about that now. Maybe later she would find the woman and apologize. 

Varric was mercifully missing from his usual spot as she tromped across the great hall and threw open the door that lead into her estranged lover’s usual haunt. A small twinge of guilt hit her as she made a beeline for his desk, piled high with dusty tomes. No doubt he was planning to make his way through all of them. He was relentless when he made up his mind to know something. 

Natalie pushed aside any doubt as she scanned the spines.  _ It is sometimes better to ask for forgiveness than permission.  _

The books were a scattered mess of different topics, all interspersed with papers covered in Solas’ neat but ornate hand. Herbalism, philosophy, history, magic, anthropology. Titles jumped out at her as she carefully selected a few from the largest pile on the desk. Books teetered precariously as she slowly removed ones from beneath them. They tipped and threatened to fall as she quickly steadied them with her free hand. He would probably forgive her for liberating a few of them, but he’d likely be less charitable if she damaged the rest in the process. 

Managing to extricate the chosen volume from midway down the stack, she gave herself a little mental pat on the back. There were many occasions he was thankful for steady hands, and this was one of them. She had no plan to lie to him about her explorations in his things, but it was probably best not to loudly announce her presence. Flipping open the book, she scanned the pages within. With a sigh, she stuffed the book back into the stack where she had lifted it from, balancing the other tomes to keep them upright. 

As she straightened, a battered spine with faded golden gilding caught her eye from its home on the bottom of another stack.  _ Unraveling the Fabric: A Discourse on the Nature of the Fade.  _ Well  _ that  _ certainly sounded promising. Likely the very reason Solas had the book in the first place. 

She stared at the book for a moment longer, suddenly feeling her heart racing. This was it. She could feel it. Carefully, she grasped the cover and wiggled it until it began to slide from beneath the others. Supporting the stack with her free hand, she slowly pulled at it. 

Before she could free it, a loud caw came echoing from the upper floors of the rotunda. Startle by the sudden noise, she jumped. Her hip hit into the desk, her hand left its supportive position on the stack of books, and she suddenly found herself sprawled on her ass on the floor, surrounded by a mound of opened books and fluttering pages.

Natalie surveyed the mess with dismay.  _ So much for being careful.  _

Curious faces peered down at her from the upper balconies. She gave them a small, dismissive wave, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. As she picked herself up off of the floor, she collected the fallen books. Removing the one she had been trying to get at, she stacked them neatly back on the desk. It seemed she had not managed to damage any of them.  _ Thank god. _

As she neared the end of her mess, she spotted a small volume. It was worn and dog-eared and lay open with its spine resting on the floor and its pages exposed. It wasn’t its poor condition that caught her eye, but the finely sketched drawings on the pages. It looked strangely familiar, like she had seen it before. 

With gentle fingers, she picked up the slim book and glanced at the cover. Her heart leapt as she realized that she  _ had  _ seen it before. Seen it many times in fact, in Solas’ hands as he scribbled in it while they traveled, or on a quiet night in Skyhold, or next to a roaring campfire. She distinctly remembered him writing in this very journal the night she and Hale had sat with him and talked about red capes and wolves in the woods. The page it had fallen open to was covered in small, neat writing and a drawing. Her heart clenched in her chest. 

It was  _ her.  _ The startling sight of her own face staring up at her from the page made her mouth drop open and she sank to her knees on the floor. He had drawn her once before, that magical day in the rotunda. But this was not that sketch. This was far earlier. Charcoal Natalie sat with the tiny spark of a flame in her palm, her eyes sparkling with joy, face illuminated with magic. The day she had finally managed to produce a flame. 

Flipping through the pages, she saw other depictions of herself interspersed throughout the pages of notes and hand drawn diagrams. Chopping herbs in the clinic, her face peaceful. Struggling miserably through the snow after Haven. Standing on a snowy cliff, gazing out across the horizon. Leaning over the kitchen table with a plate of toast and a sly smile. Clutching desperately to Daisy’s back. Bundled in furs and cuddling an infant in Sahrnia. Fast asleep, her bare shoulder peeking out from the blankets and her hair a riotous halo across the pillows. Dressed in a huge hoodie, sitting on the floor of her apartment in Chicago with pale light leaking out from under her eyelids. 

Blood pounded in her ears as she flipped through page after page. Each version of her was lovingly rendered in soft detail. Each depiction a reflection of how he saw her. Heat flooded her face as hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes. A sudden rush of indescribable tenderness filled her chest and the realization of just how much she loved his beautiful, confusing, mysterious man hit her like a fist to the gut. She would talk to him when he returned. They would talk and she would forgive him. She only hoped it wasn’t too late. 

Wiping her face with the end of her sleeve, she combed through the pages a final time, her heart and soul full of thoughts of him. As she flipped through to the final pages, something small and pink fluttered into her lap. Setting the journal down atop her thighs, she picked up the delicate petals of a dried flower. The pale petals were pressed flat, but still held their soft color. Pink gave way to sunny yellow as the petals met the center pistil. 

_ What on earth. _ Natalie peered at the thin, dried flower in her palm with furrowed brows.  _ I wonder where this is from.  _ She turned it over and over in her palm. The flower was unlike any she had seen before, yet it nagged at her brain. 

Tucking the bloom back into the back pages of the journal, Natalie rose from the floor and replaced the rest of the scattered books in their stack upon the desk. She buried the slim volume in the stack with the others, hoping it was close to where it had been before. Warmth still bloomed in her mind, full to brimming with thoughts of him. 

_ Unraveling the Fabric _ went into the deep pocket of her skirt and she straightened the last of the books she had displaced. With a final look around the room, Natalie left the comforting embrace of his essence imprinted into the stones and headed back to her room to devour her pilfered knowledge. Regardless of whatever had happened, what he kept from her, she was certain of one thing.

She didn’t know how her life was going to play out. She didn’t even know what her life  _ meant _ at this point. But she knew she wanted to figure it out with him. 


	39. Il Dolce Suono

An ominous calm settled over Skyhold as the remaining members of the Inquisition went on about their business in the absence of their leader. It was a tense sort of calm. Poised and waiting for the endgame. Hale was due back any day. With any luck, he would return with whatever the secret to defeating Corypheus and his regeneration was.

It seemed off that, in light of the fairly major events likely to take place soon, she was more concerned with seeing a certain elf who had accompanied Hale. She awaited his return like a winter tree waits for the first warm blush of spring to spread its roots once more. It made her nervous and jittery. But more than anything, it made her feel ridiculous.

Natalie shook her head at her own foolishness as she redirected her eyes to the page in front of her for about the fifth time in the last several minutes. _Unraveling the Fabric_ proved itself to be a wealth of information about the nature of the Veil and the Fade, even if a lot of it seemed to be pure speculation. If Dorian was to be believed, it was also speculation made by an alleged madman who had been declared a heretic. Despite its somewhat dubious origin, it raised some interesting questions and posited that the Veil was a construct rather than a naturally occurring phenomenon.

 _The Fade is comprised of… I wonder if I can convince Hale to give the two of us a couple days off after this._ It might be nice to slink away for a few days of absolute privacy. Then they could apologize properly, and at length. Laughter snapped into her thoughts from nearby as a group of tittering noblewomen pass her perch on the garden bench. Natalie’s cheeks heated. She gave herself a quick mental smack and a stern reminder to stop acting like an idiotic teenager with an unrequited crush. There were actual things that needed to be done.

With a heavy sigh, Natalie snapped the book shut and dropped it onto the bench next to where she sat. _This is impossible._ It seemed her juvenile brain was much too distracted to be of use today.

Slipping the book into her apron pocket, she stood and strode across the gardens toward her rooms on the mezzanine above. The day as warmer than usual, the small courtyard crowded with pale bodies trying to soak in a little much needed sunlight after a long winter. Moist earth and damp scented the air. Perhaps in a few days, they would see the first sprigs of green struggling from the dormant soil. With the looming confrontation with Corypheus, and the expectation that it could end this whole nightmare once and for all, it seemed this particular Spring could bring the rebirth of more than just the soil beneath their feet.

Natalie reached the top of the steep, stone stairs, pleased to find that she could now climb them without feeling her thighs burning. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Reaching out, her hands grasped the knob of her door and began to turn it.

A great boom shattered the sky above her, vibrating through her chest and leaving her ears ringing. Violent quaking sent rippling shock waves through the stone beneath her feet. Panicked voices rose from the gardens below.

 _What the hell was that?_ Natalie’s mind was in a tailspin. _Are we being attacked?_

Before she had time to consider it further, a second ear-splitting crack reverberated through the air. The sky exploded in a haze of green, the very ground beneath her feet shivering in fear. Terrified screaming rent the air as the sound of running feet pattered below her, but Natalie took little notice as she stared in horror at the swirling mass that spun in the sky.

The Breach. Open once again and looking even more ominous that it ever had before.

Virulent green lightning cracked across the sky as the earth rumbled in protest, throwing her off balance as the floor pitched below her feet. Natalie stumbled into the wall outside her door, hard stone biting into her shoulder and send a jolt of pain down her arm.

 _No._ The word filled her spiraling mind. _No, no, no, no, no._

Hale and his party were the first thing to spring to her mind. Where were they? Had they been attacked? Fear churned in her gut as she considered the horrible possibility that Corypheus had finally caught them all.

The great rent in the sky contracted and then expanded, greater than before. It grew, swallowing the blue sky around it in a twisting morass. Natalie’s eyes took it in for a moment longer before her brain kicked into overdrive, forcing her feet to move.

Below, the people in the gardens had scattered, scurrying away like rabbits into what they perceived to be safety. Natalie dashed past the medicinal beds, brushing by panicking Orlesian nobles and the Inquisition soldiers who were trying in vain to keep people calm. She broke through the doorway into the Great Hall, her feet skidding along the stone as she tried to stop herself from running headlong into the huge form in front of her.

“Bull!” She shouted, startled. “What is going on?”

He peered down at her with his one good eye. “Not sure yet. Seems Corypheus decided he is tired of waiting for the Boss to find him and decided to send out an invitation instead.”

Natalie snorted. _Some invitation._ “Are Hale and the others back yet?”

“No. Last I heard, they were within a couple of days. I imagine they will turn back now.”

“They will head straight for the Breach. It was opened from the same place?”

Bull’s horns bobbed as he nodded. “Seems so.”

Natalie chewed her lip, taking in the fearful crowd in the room with them. Bull, in contrast, seemed remarkably calm. “How did he open it again? I thought Hale closed it.”

“It was closed, but you saw the scar in the sky. I don’t know that it could even be truly healed completely.”

“Always a weak spot.” It made sense. Something torn and mended was never truly whole again. “I hope Hale found what he went looking for.”

Bull’s mouth curled into a grimace. “Me too.”

Natalie’s gut gave another twist, full of dread. This was bad. This was really bad. “I’m sorry, Bull. I won’t keep you. I should go see if the healers need more hands. If there’s going to be fighting, there will be wounded.”

“You got it.” He inclined his head at her, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his attention back to the front of the room where Cullen and Leliana were heading into the side door to the War Room.

Not wanting to bother him further, Natalie turned right and headed back out of the Great Hall and toward the infirmary. The inner bailey was in an uproar; the smell of horse and sweat thick in the tense air. Near the gates, a group of riders was assembling. Likely messengers. Everyone had a look of intense urgency on their face. Understandable. It was already approaching mid-afternoon and their light to travel by would be short.

She cut through the buzzing crowd and made her way past the Herald’s Rest and into the clinic. The scene inside was not much better. Mother Giselle was missing, but Fiona was not. The Grand Enchanter was not often seen in the clinic itself, but she was here now.

One of the mages, Annika, thrust a pile of clean linens into her arms. “Here. We need to make up all the beds, just in case.”

And they were off.

It was a blurry afternoon. People came and went. Whispered rumors multiplied in the empty spaces between them as they worked. Corypheus had an army marching to Skyhold. The Inquisitor had killed him, but failed to close the Breach a second time and the world was going to be swallowed. Corypheus had killed the Inquisitor and his companions and was marching to destroy the rest of the Inquisition. The continued crackling in the sky from the ever-expanding Breach and the tremors still rumbling beneath their feet only exacerbated the gossip.

Natalie could feel her blood boil. Why did people make up the worst-case scenarios and then spread them as fact? It was ridiculous. She clenched her teeth together. Every single time. But the last thing she needed was to make a bunch of enemies today. So she kept her head down, and her mouth shut.

Inside, she was seething with worry. Was this it? The final confrontation? All she could think was that she had lied to Hale in their last conversation. Lied to him. And Solas. She may never get to tell him that she understood why he had not told her. She forgave him. She wasn’t angry. She loved him. Fear. Regret. They filled her mind. Warmth pricked the back of her eyes as her hands continued their steady work, but she willed them back. Tears had no place here.

Snapping the last of the linens into place, Natalie sent up a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening to bring them all home safe.

As night fell, plunging the clinic into murky candlelight, the healers drifted from passive task to passive task. Truly, there was not much more they could do right now. It had been a quiet few weeks, so supplies were already well-stocked and ready. The clinic was cleaned, the beds ready and waiting. All that remained was to wait. Wait for the endgame.

Waiting. _Ugh._

Why was there always so much waiting?

Natalie found herself sitting at one of the work tables, her fingers gently twirling a delicate stalk of elfroot. The leaves gave off a pleasant, herbaceous scent, a comforting scent, as her mind reeled. It wasn’t surprising that no one had told her anything. Who was she, really? In terms of the Inquisition, she was no one. Not important enough to warrant anyone’s attention at a time like this.

Still, it would be nice to be told _something._

A gentle hand on her shoulder woke her from a light doze, some time after the moon had started its sleepy descent in the sky and the usual noise from the tavern next door had died away.

“Natalie, you need to rest.” The mellow tones of Mother Giselle’s lilting accent cut away at the sleep in her brain. “You will be sore if you sleep like this all night.”

Natalie peeled her head away from the table, feeling the cool damp of a line of drool across her cheek. “What time is it?”

“It is late, you should go to your rooms.”

Rubbing her eyes, she tried to clear the grit from them. Giselle stood over her shoulder, her calm presence steady as stone. How long had she been asleep? Looking around, there were not many left haunting the infirmary. Giselle, herself, and one of the mages who had decided to nap on one of the freshly made cots were the only ones remaining. “Is there any news?”

Giselle bowed her head slightly, her eyes closing for a moment. “Unfortunately, not much. Only that the Inquisitor and his party have turned back toward Haven. They are on their way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes now.”

“How long will it take them to get there? Do you know?”

“I am sorry, but I don’t.” Giselle’s face was open and honest. Natalie trusted that she would tell her if she had news.

Natalie nodded, a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding hissing from between her teeth. Raising up onto wobbly legs, still numb from sleeping at the table, she made for the door. “You will let me know if I am needed?”

Giselle’s face broke into a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Of course.”

She retired to her rooms, her weary body sinking into the mattress with a groan. Perhaps tomorrow would bring more news.

But it didn’t. All through the next day, there was no word of Hale or the others. The keep remained still and tense, even as the Breach continued to grow. Howling in the sky, it slowly engulfed more and more, growing into a maelstrom. Periodically, the ground still shook as it sent shock waves through the earth. Skyhold lay in wait. Waiting and hoping. And all those hopes were pinned on Hale.

By the third day, Natalie was on the verge of tearing her hair out. Not even Bull’s offer to thrash her soundly on the practice field took her mind off of the nagging voice in her head that told her they were all dead. It was all lost. Solas was gone and the last thing she had said to him was an order to leave her alone. Corypheus had to be on his way here, even as she sat worrying.

The wait was slowly driving her insane as the fear and anxiety ate away at her from the inside. God, how she wished that this nightmare could be over. She wished for some news. _Anything._ The night before, she had even tried to seek out Solas in the Fade. It was a long shot, she knew, but Natalie was becoming quite desperate enough to try anything. But the Fade had been still, and she had been unable to find the distinctive signature of his overwhelming energy anywhere.

With shaking hands, Natalie gripped the practice sword. Bull and Krem were taking turns putting her through the paces this morning and the pleasantly exhausted feeling in her muscles was almost a boon. Her breath came in heavy spurts. Sweat rolled down her forehead. All in all, the sound ass-whooping they were giving her was a welcome distraction, even if she was going to feel like a car crash victim in the morning.

“Enough.” She called, throwing the wooden sword to the ground. Her chest felt tight as she leaned over to brace her hands against her thighs.

“Admitting defeat already?” Krem’s face wore a smug smile.

Natalie pointed at him in what she hoped was a threatening manner. “Don’t make me come put you flat on your ass again.”

Her statement was met with a sharp laugh. “I’d love to see you try. I’ve seen your tricks.”

“Oh, please.” She replied. “I’ve got tricks you wouldn’t believe.” No, she didn’t. He had taught her most of her tricks.

Krem gave her a doubtful look, his crooked smirk playful and mocking. He removed his armored gloves and settled his practice sword against the wall.

Before he could fling a snarky comeback her way, the ground rolled beneath their feet. She gasped, feeling her balance tilt and sway. A shock wave pulsed through the sky, its wake shooing away the fluffy clouds that dotted what was still hazy blue instead of green. The Breach shivered, throbbing like a septic wound. Skyhold paused on a knife’s edge, deadly calm. Its inhabitants holding a collective breath as they stood transfixed by the mass in the air.

Then there was only light. Bright, blinding light filled the sky. Natalie threw her arm across her eyes, too late to stop the spots from forming in her vision. A terrible booming crack echoed across the mountains.

Then silence.

When her vision had cleared, she uncovered her eyes. Shock hit her like a freight train as she beheld the sky. The bright, clear, blue sky.

A dull roar started in the camp below Skyhold, gradually growing into an ear-splitting din as the Inquisition rejoiced. The Breach was closed once again. But did that mean Hale had been successful? Was Corypheus dead? Had they finally won?

Only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

Tall trees swayed over her head, their branches full of newly formed buds. The promise of returning life in the air. Dark soil slid between her toes, cool dampness clinging to the soles of her bare feet. A trail of barely sprouting flowers grew in her wake, the hem of her diaphanous skirt of glowing white brushing over them as she walked.

The Fade was different now. Calmer. Whether it had come about because the universe was resting after the turmoil of a second Breach or because she now remembered that she was a creature born from it, she didn’t know. Energy, old and powerful, bore her along. She could feel the pull of it in her midsection. In the frantic beating of her heart.

Something was calling.

She wound through the trees, fingertips trailing along the bark as she walked. The clean smell of newly fallen rain filled her nose. Briefly, she considered the idea that blindly following a call in the Fade might not be the best idea, but something inside told her to answer. That she needed to answer.

A lone figure dressed in shades of forest green and brown stood partially hidden among the roots of a great oak. Her heart knew his familiar form long before her brain managed to make the connection.

“Solas.” The words tumbled from her parted lips like a benediction.

His head snapped up, eyes flaring wide for a moment before his features settled once more into smoothness. “An’eth’ara, Natalie.”

The joy of seeing his face once more, even if it was in the Fade instead of in person, lightened her heart. He looked whole. Natalie’s feet covered the mossy ground that separated them. Blue eyes tracked her movements as she came to stand before him.

Peering up into his beloved face, she felt her heart clench in her chest. Relief. God, it was so good to see him alive and well. “What happened? They haven’t told us anything.”

“Corypheus has been defeated. You will not have to worry about him any longer.”

A weight was lifted from her shoulders. “Thank god. That is great news. And everyone is okay? Hale?”

“The Inquisitor is alive. He fought bravely and came through the battle unharmed but for a few bruises.”

It still seemed so surreal. Was it really over? Natalie raised her hands to brush her fingertips over his cheek. Warm skin gave under her touch. Solid. Real. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but there was too much unsaid between them. Instead, she settled for cupping his jaw in her palm. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before his big hand came up to cover her own.

Heat prickled at the backs of her eyes. “And you? Are you okay?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His breath released in a long stream as the tension eased from his shoulders. Eyes as deep as ocean water bore into her, searching her face as if he were memorizing it. “I am unharmed, you do not have to concern yourself for my well being.”

“Of course I do.” She scoffed, her body gravitating closer to his. “I’ve been so worried.” The fingers enclosing hers stroked the skin on the back of her hand, tracing the bones and tendons beneath.

 _Oh fuck it._ She thought, a moment before she slid both arms around his neck and brought his face to hers. Their lips met, hesitant at first. His body was tense, stiff, even as his lips were soft against her mouth. Natalie pulled away, taking in his face and the deep creases on his brow. The lines of strain around his mouth.

His eyes burned bright as he stared at her. One. Two. Three. Moments passed by them. An uneasiness settled deep in her belly, the silence breeding uncertainty. Just as she had resolved to pull away, his arms came around her waist to crush her to his chest. A deep shudder rumbled through his body, the tension ebbing and flowing under his skin.

With a final trembling breath, his mouth crashed against hers. It was an artless kiss, hungry and desperate. Teasing her lips apart, they met in a messy tangle of lips and tongue and teeth. He claimed her, leaving her breathless and gasping.

Natalie broke away, her lungs drawing in the air they had been denied. “Solas, I need you to know that I’m not angry about you not telling me. I tried to be but—“

He shushed her gently, his nose nuzzling against her cheek. “You have every right to be.”

“But I’m not.” She pressed fluttering kisses on the corner of his mouth, her fingers digging into the back of his neck to hold him closer. “All I could think of was that you might die thinking that I hated you. I could never hate you.”

His shoulders slumped, his body enveloping her. “Never is a very long time. It is unwise to speak in such absolutes.”

“Never.” She replied firmly. “I love you.”

Solas claimed her lips once more in a kiss, this time soft and tender. There was something lingering behind this kiss. Something tinged with sadness. Something that felt far too much like a goodbye.

When he pulled away, his hands cupped her face as he gazed down into her eyes. Pressing a soft kiss to her brow, he released her and stepped away. “It is late. I am afraid we are out of time.” His brow remained creased.

She stared at him as he skirted her like he couldn’t wait to put some distance between them. An urgency flared to life in her breast. “Why does this feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

“The victors should return to Skyhold in a handful of days.” The corners of his mouth turned up, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Nuva revas sul'ema ma atisha, vhenan.”

Creeping, heated tingles blossomed across the back of her neck. What was he saying? “Wait.”

“I am sorry.” He turned his back and began to walk away.

“Wait.” She called, following after him.

His tall form strode away without acknowledging her call, long legs covering far more ground that her much shorter ones. The trees seemed to close in around him, branches blocking her way.

“Wait!” She screamed as he disappeared into the endless void of the Fade.

 

* * *

 

Hale rode back into Skyhold a week later to a cheering crowd. All of Skyhold had assembled to greet the victorious heroes who had vanquished the Elder One. He sat straight-backed atop his chestnut stallion, white hair clean and streaming out behind him like a shimmering banner. His face was triumphant, smile wide and infectious.

Natalie barely saw him. Her eyes were glued to the group that rode in behind him. Morrigan, as haughty as ever. Varric, pumping his fist in the air with a grin on his face. Cassandra, regal and clearly disapproving of Varric. The fourth horse was conspicuously missing.

Missing.

He really hadn’t come back.

A sharp pain pierced her chest as the confirmation of the thing she had feared since their meeting in the Fade sunk in. Where was he? She had looked again, every night since that one. Despite her origins, he was far more of a master of the Fade than she was and he had managed to elude her.  

Hale caught her eye, waving madly at her. Natalie forced a smile on her face and returned his gesture, throwing him a dual thumbs up. His grin widened as he rode past toward the stables. Dismounting his horse, he found himself mobbed by the joyous crowd.

Natalie took a deep breath and stepped away. Let Hale have his moment. He had earned it and then some. Later. She would find him later.

But later proved hard to come by. Josephine had organized a massive feast in celebration of the defeat of Corypheus and the end of the war. The Great Hall was a mass of bodies, tables shoved aside and laden with food and drink. A group of musicians, including Maryden, were playing a merry tune. Someone had started a lively dance that looked suspiciously like country line dancing, something Natalie had never been fond of.

Unwilling to rain on anyone’s parade with her misery, she had removed herself to a corner where she nursed a goblet of deep, red wine. The alcohol was, unfortunately, doing the opposite of what she had hoped it would. Instead of calming her, it was turning her into a weepy, maudlin mess. Any moment, she felt like she might start crying in the middle of a room filled with all the members of the Inquisition. Such a thing was unacceptable.

“You look like someone just trampled your cat.”

Natalie jumped at the sudden statement, wine sloshing over the rim of her glass onto her hand.

“Whoa, hang on there. I didn’t mean to make you waste good wine.” Varric chuckled as he leaned against the wall near her chair.

Natalie wiped her hand on the skirt of her pants, not particularly caring about ruining the fabric. “You scared the hell out of me, Varric.” She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to still the rapid beat beneath her skin. “You could have warned me you were coming.”

“Ah, well, next time I will keep that in mind. I forgot how jumpy you are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yep, terribly excitable. It's a miracle I can hold a needle steady enough to sew people up.”

Varric chuckled. He regarded her with steady eyes, his gaze far more serious than his grin suggested. “The truth is, I wanted to see how you were holding up over here.”

Her brain closed in on itself, leaving a lump of ice in her chest. “I’m alright.” Shaking her head, she tried to dislodge that coldness with a smile. “Do I really look that miserable?”

“I mean, I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Ah, well, that’s okay. I already assumed it.”

He walked forward and patted her shoulder and cast a slight gesture toward Hale. “He has the spymaster looking for him already. If anyone can find out where he went, she can.”

Natalie closed her eyes, feeling that same sharp stab of pain in her chest again. “Thanks, Varric.”

“I find it pretty pointless to tell people to cheer up. But it’ll turn out in the end. You’ll see, Bunny.” He started to walk away, only to turn back after a few paces. “Maybe I can interest you in a game of Wicked Grace later.”

The offer was mildly interesting. She had seen the game played a couple of times. Even heard a very scandalous story about their Commander joining in and leaving the tavern butt naked. Eh. Then again, maybe it was a bad idea. “I’ll keep your offer in mind.” She toasted him with her wine glass.

He nodded at her and disappeared into the crowd.

Maybe it was time she removed her dark cloud and went to bed. And maybe this time she could stop herself from spending the whole night wandering the Fade like a ghostly Woman in White. She had just risen from her chair when a pointed chin dropped onto her shoulder.

“Leaving so soon?” Hale asked.

“I’m exhausted. I think I just need to go lie down.”

His arms wound around her. “You don’t have to run off on your own.” He pulled her deeper into the Great Hall. “Come on.”

Natalie tried to pry his fingers off of her. “Hale, I just want to go to bed.”

“And that’s where we are going. Here’s a secret, I’d also love to get out of here before I have to talk to anyone else.” Nodding at Josephine and Blackwall, he guided her toward the door to his tower room.

“Seriously, Hale.”

“Seriously, Natalie.” He mocked.

“You’re a jerk.”

“You love me anyway.”

“Fine.” With a sigh, she gave up trying to escape. She just didn’t have the energy to fight him. And maybe having company would be better than being alone tonight.

He led her up the winding stair to his massive room at the top of the tower. Woodenly, she followed. The peaceful calm in the room was a stark contrast to the roaring crowd below. It was a welcome change. The surrounding air seemed so much less stifling than it had minutes ago.

Hale appeared before her with a small crystal glass filled with amber liquid. “Here. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks.” She took the glass and knocked it back with a grimace. The amber spirit burned a path down her throat, making her sputter and cough.

Hale chuckled and pounded her on the back. “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“Jesus, that is strong.” She gasped.

“Of course it is, it’s meant for only the most manly of men. It came straight from this Orlesian Duc who fancies himself quite the expert on what men do. Really puts the hair on your chest. No mean feat for an elf, let me tell you.” He winked at her as he took her empty glass and set both on a nearby table.

Despite the bad mood that had persisted for days, she found herself stifling a giggle.

“Are you mocking my chest hair? How dare you.” He let out a gasp and put a hand over his throat.

The giggles bubbled up in her chest, growing until she couldn’t hold them back anymore. Soon, she was laughing full-out, shaking her head at him.

Hale’s mouth quirked up as he drew her in for a warm hug. “See? I knew the real smile was in there somewhere.” His nimble fingers carded through her hair, separating the long strands and stroking her scalp. It comforted her. She felt herself melting into him, letting him hold her.

“Congrats on the whole defeating Corypheus and saving the world thing, by the way.” She said, her face smashed into his chest.

Hale barked a laugh. “Yeah, thanks. I try.” His hands dropped from her head to rub circles on her back. “I have Leliana looking for him.”

“I know. Varric told me.”

“We’re going to find out where he went, if only so I can kick his ass for abandoning you.”

She felt her head shaking. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Kick his ass? Of course, I do.” His arms contracted around her, squeezing her a little harder. “No one gets to make you cry except me.”

At his words, she realized that her cheeks were indeed wet. When had that happened? Maybe she shouldn’t have downed that glass so fast. Sniffing miserably, she wiped at her cheeks with the end of her sleeve. “Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for thanks. I’m doing it because we’re family.” Hale grasped her by the shoulders and pushed her away so he could look her in the eye. “No one fucks with my family.”

Warmth spread in her chest. She had never been blessed with siblings growing up, but she imagined having a brother would have been something like this. The overwhelming urge to spill all her secrets filled her her. Why had she ever considered not telling him? “I love you, Hale.”

“I love you too, Nat.”

Steeling her nerves, she patted his shoulder. “I have something I need to tell you. I think you should sit down.”

And she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys. This is the end of part one. We made it! I am going to keep going here, rather than start a series. Mostly out of laziness.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me through 130,000 words. I appreciate all of you who read, and who leave kudos or write comments. Seriously, you have no idea how much all of you have kept me inspired to keep writing Natalie's story. <3 I hope you keep reading, because I'm not done writing.


	40. Part Two: Hopeless Wanderer

**Part Two**

 

* * *

 

She said, “Forgive me

for being a dreamer”

and he took her by

the hand and replied.

 

“Forgive me for not

being here sooner,

to dream with you.”

 

-[J. Iron Word](https://www.jironword.com/)

 

* * *

 

It was still odd walking into the rotunda and seeing it empty. White sheets covered the sofa and desk. The pots of paints and brushes long since put into storage. Books and journals and reams of notes all packed away into crates and stashed in secret in a corner of Natalie’s room above the gardens. It was bare, echoing, lacking the warmth and comfort it had held in better days. Still, she felt drawn to the room.

Maybe it was the paintings. In the months since Solas’ disappearance, she had spent hours cross-legged on the floor studying them. Her heart knew every line, every color, every form rendered in fine detail and distinctive style. Countless days had passed by as she had stared at them, trying to understand the enigma she had let herself fall in love with.

The drawing that had caused her mind the most disturbance was the last one. Not a beautiful fresco rendered in full color like the others, but a simple, red chalk drawing scratched up on the wall. The wolf, proud and triumphant, plunging a sword into the heart of a dragon. It waited there for the return of the artist who would fill it in with brilliant color to match the others, waited just as she waited. There was something in these painting she wasn’t seeing. A puzzle waiting to be solved. Natalie wished she knew what it was. Knew what string to pull on to unravel the whole thing.

What did it mean? What piece was she missing?

Maybe it was his essence, still imprinted in the stones after many months of his absence. It was comforting to be near that familiar feeling in the hardest hours when her heart was heaviest in her breast. When the harsh truth of her own death and resurrection dogged her steps and the searing pain of his abrupt departure so soon after haunted her mind. Every time she found herself here, she still expected to open the door to him standing beyond. His soft, rumbling voice calling her vhenan.

Somewhere along the way she had realized something that could not be ignored. Despite all the time they had spent together, she had never known Solas. Not really.

She knew he hated tea and liars and those unwilling to open their minds to new ideas. She knew he loved telling stories and trading knowledge and had a secret fondness for wine and sweets. She knew he loved earthy colors and soft fabrics but regarded unnecessary opulence as silly. She knew of his need to ease the suffering of others.

But did she know him? There had always been something secret in his eyes. Always things he would not tell her. Even things he should have. Words that were honest but lacked the context to see a whole picture of his true meaning. Time and distance had brought at least a small measure of clarity. She had not known Solas, not well enough. Because the man she had thought she knew would never have left the way he had.

Cold from the floor beneath her soaked into her legs, reminding her of the inevitable turn of the seasons. Spring had passed in a haze, everyone still in shock over their victory. Leliana had been called back to Val Royeaux and named Divine, much to the chagrin of Hale. He missed his spymaster. Morrigan had disappeared almost immediately after their victory and had not been seen since.

Summer brought the disbanding of a good portion of the army, now that they were no longer needed. The tent city below the keep was a quarter of the size it had once been. Dorian left for home with pledges to Hale that he would work towards change.

Fall had taken Varric home to Kirkwall, determined to rebuild the city of his birth, and seen Bull and the Chargers leave for new missions. Cassandra was gathering what remained of the Seekers and left to further her mission to return them into what the original Seekers had created them to stand for. The tavern never seemed as quiet as it did now, in the absence of the storyteller and the Qunari. Natalie missed them both terribly.

Slowly, the people around here were returning to their regular lives, but where did she fit? She had no family, no home to return to. Now, all the friends she had made were trickling through her fingers like water. It was coming near to two years since the day she had awoken in that cabin in Haven. Every day, she felt the weight of the burden she was placing on Hale. He loved her, but what value was she bringing to him besides companionship?

And the question, the _what if_ , of whether she was the only being from Earth to have been brought here against their will during the Breach still burned in her mind like an eternal flame. Three seasons ago, on the evening she had confessed her true nature to Hale in his chambers, she had asked him to have Leliana send out inquiries. Months had passed with no word. Natalie despaired of ever hearing anything, with Leliana now gone.

She had to get out of here. Not only out of the rotunda, but out of Skyhold. Being here, surrounded by reminders and memories, was the slowest kind of death. A death of the soul. It was time to move on. Maybe a change of scenery would jolt more of her memory back into place.

“The song echoes still. You feel it loudest here where the memories are thick like winter snow. You miss him. His voice a ghost in your heart. Will you ever see him again?” The ghostly voice echoed in the room behind her.

She missed him, but did she miss the man or the ideal of the man she had built up in her mind? It all seemed a little blurry as the doubts trickled in around the edges. “I miss him, Cole. And I miss a lot of things that have nothing to do with him.”

“Home.”

Natalie sighed, feeling an ache in her chest. “Home.” When this year had begun, thinking about it would have started the flood of tears in her eyes. Now, they were dry. There were no more tears left. “I miss feeling like I belong to a place. That a place is _mine.”_

“You have a home. Friends. Family. Though their feet carry them away, they live within.” He sat beside her, his lanky form folding into a knot beside her. Cole had become her shadow ever since the night he had shown her the truth on the battlements.

With a sad smile, she clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Cole, but some hurts just need time to heal. Words don’t touch them.”

Before he could respond, the door behind them swung open, banging loudly against the wall. Natalie craned her neck around to see who had come in. The green uniform was one of many just like it around Skyhold. A foot soldier? They didn’t normally come this way, preferring to reach the Commander’s office from the battlements. There was a large, white envelope clutched in his fist. Ah, a messenger then.

“M’am.” The messenger halted several feet away, his eyes taking her in but skittering past Cole. It was a young elven man, his face bare of a vallaslin. “Message for you.” In an outstretched hand, he offered her the envelope.

Who would send her a message? Not Hale. _Could it be…_ Against her better judgement, her heart pounded. Natalie took the envelope with a shaking hand, steeling herself as she flipped it over to examine the wax seal. Red and emblazoned with the Chantry’s eye. Her breath released as she wrinkled her brow, unable to sharp sting of disappointment. _What?_

Rows of bold black handwriting covered the fine white parchment inside. It slashed across the page, almost aggressive in its neatness. As she scanned its contents, her eyes caught a few words.

_Discovered a possible lead… Wycome, in the Free Marches… claims he fell from a Rift._

The signature of none other than the new Divine Justinia herself graced the bottom of the page. _Leliana…_

Her fingers spasmed around the paper, crumpling it before she caught herself as she reread the words Leliana had written.

_Fell from a Rift._

She had to talk to Hale.

“I’m sorry, Cole. I have to go.”  

 

* * *

 

“So, what you’re really saying is that you want to leave me.”

Natalie sighed and leaned her head back against the plush velvet of the sofa, a thin, crystal goblet of Orlesian wine in her hands. “Hale, you know that’s not what I said.” She had known the chance of him not taking her request personally was slim to none, but she had hoped he would see her side.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said you wanted to waltz off to the Free Marches. That sounds an awful lot like ‘Hale, I’m leaving you.’”

She rolled her eyes. “Good lord, when did you become such a whiner?”

“I’m not whining. When did you become such a jerk? You’re supposed to be the nice one!”

“The ability to not be a total diva about everything like _some_ people I could name isn’t the same as being nice, Hale.” Her pointed stare in his direction left no question who that person was.

“Ouch. See? Total jerk. Tell evil Natalie to bring good Natalie back, please.”

Her answer was little more than a sarcastic snort. “Too late, Buck-O. She’s dead.” The words were out before she had really considered them. They sent a jolt right through her, sobering the darkly humorous mood. You never got used to facing that kind of reality. Not that she has seen so far, at least.

Hale’s eyes searched her face before he responded, his teasing tone gone. Apparently, he had decided it was time to don his Inquisitor hat. “You don’t even know what is out there. Let me list the reasons this is an awful idea.” He ticked off his fingers as he spoke, “You’ve never traveled anywhere without several people who could defend you. You’re unfamiliar with the land. You can’t hunt or trap, nor do you have any wilderness survival skills. And, you don’t really know the laws or customs, especially if you come across any Dalish.” Hale’s pointed eyes regarded her with startling intensity. “Did I miss anything? Oh, and it’s dangerous.”

The fire crackled with abandon in the huge fireplace that graced Hale’s chambers. Leaping flames echoed the rising anger along the back of her neck. She could feel it there, burning on her skin. “Well, thanks for that enormous vote of confidence in my ability to not get myself killed. Too bad I wasn’t asking for your permission, just your blessing.”

He studied her for long moments, obviously considering how he should approach her. Hale was a hunter, and he knew how to subdue his prey. “I’m not trying to say you’re incompetent, just inexperienced.”

“And I’ll never be experienced if I sit on my ass here, now will I?”

Breathing a long sigh, Hale ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at the skin in frustration. “It’s almost winter. Traveling now would be incredibly stupid.”

“Then I better leave before it snows.” Her voice was deadpan. “I’m leaving with or without your help.”

“Nat, this is madness. Just stop and think for a minute!”

“All I’ve been doing is thinking!” She shouted, slapping her goblet on the low table near the sofa hard enough to slosh wine over the rim and rising to her feet. “For close to nine months, I’ve been thinking and wandering around this place like a ghost. I need to _do_ something!”

Hale leapt from the couch and took her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her upper arms. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been watching you do it. I’ve been watching you avoid everyone like some kind of hermit. You’ve lost, what? Ten pounds? Fifteen? You’re wasting away before our eyes.” He gave her a hard shake. “Snap the fuck out of it!”

She stared at him, her jaw clenched, fists opening and closing at her sides. But she didn’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down the anger and faced him with what she hoped looked like confidence. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Hale, I’ve been sitting in this castle staring at the walls. I need to get out of here before I lose my mind.”

Abruptly, he released her, stepping away to put the couch between them. His fingers snagged his abandoned wine glass as he crossed to a side tablet to refill it from a bottle he had had delivered earlier in the evening. As the glass filled, he avoided looking at her, instead studying the rippling liquid with unwarranted attention. As soon as the glass was full, he took a long drink, draining half the glass, before topping it back up with the dregs of the bottle. It was only after he seemed sufficiently dosed with liquid courage and much calmer than he had been before that he turned to face her.

Hale’s face was serious as he spoke, his voice commanding. “Fine, but I’m going with you.”

Fighting back the surprise that had rendered her mind momentarily blank, Natalie gaped at him. “What do you mean? You have an entire organization to run.”

“The Inquisition is fine for now. It’s not like I’m talking leaving forever. I _am_ allowed to take a break.”

“But don’t you have more important things to do? It seems a little irresponsible to just run off to do god-knows-what.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” His mouth thinned into a compressed line as he leveled a glare at her. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. It was irresponsible, and not just for him. “Do you remember what I said to you the night you told me about yourself? About what brought you here?”

Natalie chewed her lip. She remembered. As she had spilled her guts all over his bedroom floor, Hale had listened with calm attention. Choking the words past the sobs she had been holding down all day, she had told him everything. The visions. The nightmares. Her walks in the Fade. That final goodbye from Solas. Everything. The last of the story had fallen like a stone between them as the room fell quiet for the first time in nearly an hour, only the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. He had stayed quiet so long she was afraid that maybe he had fallen asleep with his eyes open and not heard a word. But then he had blinked and his hand had come up to scratch his scalp, fingers running through his long, loose hair. His green eyes had turned on her and he had _shrugged._ “Okay.” _Okay._ That was his response?

“ _Okay?” She asked, bewildered._

 _“Okay.” Another shrug. “I’ve heard weirder shit than that in the last year._ _You’ll have to_ _try harder to shock me, at this point.”_

_“But—“_

_“No buts. Just okay.” Hale leaned forward, his hand clasping hers and a soft smile spreading across his face. “I don’t care what you are. You’re just Natalie_ _to me_ _. If you_ _really_ _are some kind of spirit, you have been the whole time I’ve known you. So why is it any different now?”_

_His words brought an enormous sense of relief, tension draining from her muscles as her shoulders slumped and her jaw unclenched. “I guess it’s not.”_

_“You’re right, it’s not. Hell, you could tell me you’re an_ _archdemon_ _in disguise_ _at this point,_ _and I wouldn’t care.” He patted the back of her hand and leaned back into his corner of the couch, his posture relaxing into his neutral state of graceful laziness. “You’re important_ _to me,_ _Nat. And we’ll figure this out together.”_

Present-day Natalie felt her head tilt into a nod. “I remember.”

“Good, because I meant it.” The corner of his mouth twisted up into a smirk. “Plus, my clan settled near Wycome a couple of years ago, before the Conclave. It’s past time I paid them a visit. Makes for good cover while we look for this person Leliana heard about.”

“Are you sure it’s not an issue? I mean, doesn’t Josephine need you here?”

“She probably does, but honestly… I’m so fed up with dealing with the tug of war between Orlais and Ferelden that I’m coming close to jumping from my balcony just to get some peace and quiet for once. I could use a holiday.”

Natalie snorted. “Some holiday.”

His answering laugh was dry and brittle. “You have no idea. Just wait until you meet the rest of the Lavellans.”

“That bad?”

Hale drained his wine glass and set it on the table by the now-empty bottle. “You’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS, you all have me over here with big heart eyes over all the comments and kudos that were left on the last chapter. Seriously, you all are amazing and I cant even express how much I love and appreciate you guys. So thank you for continuing this journey with me and for always being a source of encouragement.
> 
> I wanted to add a tangible separation for the parts. I saw this poem in a book I read last month and it immediately struck me. I've been saving it, because it's perfect. If you look, there's one in the first chapter now too. Neither are mine, obviously, but both poets are credited and I've linked to their websites if you want to see more.
> 
> Anywayyyy, here is the beginning of part two! Hope you enjoyed it!


	41. Ramblin' Man

Hale could be efficient to a surprising degree when he chose to be. He issued orders and arranged supplies, readying everything for their journey in record time. It had been an eye-opening experience accompanying him. He ordered, he flirted, he joked. His ability to know how he needed to deal with each different person to get exactly what he wanted was astounding. Maybe it was a byproduct of spending the last two years as the commander of a massive organization, but Natalie thought it was more likely just his natural charisma and charm. Behind his oft nonchalant demeanor, he was a force to be reckoned with.

The only one he could not convince was Josephine. Nat had not been privy to the conversation that happened behind the closed doors of the War Room, but she heard some of the tense words that had been exchanged since. Josephine did not approve of Hale neglecting his obligations to run off the the Free Marches, but seemed to soften when Hale said he wanted to visit his family.

That was why it surprised her when Natalie happened upon him in the Great Hall while on her way to the Undercroft, wearing a grin to rival the Cheshire Cat. A mischievous smirk rolled across his face as he barged through the door from Josephine’s office and made his way into the Hall, whistling a jaunty tune. His progress halted once he saw her, standing with her arms folded across her chest and an eyebrow arched.

“What are you so happy about?” She asked as he crossed to her.

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her into his side and leaned toward her ear. “Haven’t you heard, darling?”

“What exactly was I supposed to hear?”

“Apparently, we’re expecting.”

She blinked at him. “Expecting what?” Surely he wasn't really insinuating what she thought he was.

Laughter colored his words as he pulled her in closer and laid a gentle hand on her stomach, rubbing in a circle. “Our first child.” Natalie’s mind went blank. She must have been staring at him with something akin to horror on her face, because he grinned and patted her belly for good measure before continuing at a whisper. “Oh yes, rumor has it that I have planted my bastard half-breed in you and now I am whisking you off to my clan to deliver the child.”

Emotions warred within her as she soaked it all in. She couldn’t decide whether she should laugh or be completely appalled by the gossip. Looking around, she could see the assessing gazes of the visitor from all over Thedas. They stared at the two of them, some whispering softly. Then it struck her that his hand still rested low on her belly, right over where… “Hale,” she scolded softly. “Get your hand off of me and stop feeding the gossip mongers.”

“Why?” His grin spread even wider, but he did as she asked and removed his hand. “It’s been unbearably dull around here lately. Plus, they will gossip no matter what we do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, so let’s feed the rumors for your amusement.”

“Well, at least they all already know you like your men with pointy ears.”

Furious warmth spread across her cheeks. Choking back a laugh, she dug her elbow into his side. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I’m going to put rashvine in your underwear drawer.”

“You wouldn’t.” To his credit, he appeared to take her statement at least somewhat seriously.

“Keep it up and see what happens.” She wouldn’t really but thinking about it certainly brought a smile to her face.

With a bark of laughter, he deposited her in front of the Undercroft door and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before continuing, his voice far louder than it needed to be. “I will see you later, my love.”

She was going to kill him. Kill him. Natalie shook her head as she watched him walk away, the nobles tittering behind their hands as he passed. What a ridiculous man.

Josephine was less amused than Natalie when she heard of the incident in the Great Hall. She cursed Hale as she rushed to do damage control. Natalie was simultaneously tickled and horrified by the whole thing. Hale thought it was hilarious, of course, and took every opportunity to fan the flames. He took a goblet of wine out of her hand at dinner. He helped her schlep boxes out of her rooms as she packed her things away, making a show of not allowing her to carry them herself. He sent a servant with a tray of tea with ginger to her room one morning “to settle her stomach”. His words, and the tea, delivered via a very uncomfortable elven serving woman.

By the time their bags were packed, and their horses were saddled, the rumor had spread like wildfire. Despite her assuring people who asked that she was not, in fact, pregnant, it persisted. The sidelong glances were annoying, but the whole thing was ultimately not a big enough deal to try to squash. No one would believe her anyway, and the harder she fought against it the guiltier she would look. Natalie was happier than ever that they were leaving. With any luck, all of it would die down long before they returned, sans their fictional infant.

Hale stood by her horse’s flank, waiting to assist her in mounting, as she descended to the gates with her pack in hand. “Oh, come on. I can get on the horse myself.” She swatted his hands away.

“Nonsense, my darling. I shan’t allow you to harm yourself!” His voice boomed out with an exaggerated accent that certainly wasn’t his usual one.

Natalie’s brow crinkled as she stared at him. “Why are you talking like that?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You like it? I’m trying to appeal to the upper crust.”

“You sound ridiculous.”

“I know, but so do they.” He laughed as he took her pack from her. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. I’m running out of ideas to keep this ruse going, so we need to leave before they catch on that it’s all a lie.”

“Or we could just tell them it’s not true.” She suggested, putting her foot into Daisy’s stirrups and hoisting herself up and over the patient horse’s back.

“What is the fun in that?” He winked as he crossed to his own horse. “Ready to go?”

Natalie started to nod, but Hale was pressing his knees into the horse’s side to spur it forward before she ever got the chance.

_ Well then. Guess we’re going. _

 

* * *

 

Once they got on the road, the mood lightened considerably. Away from Skyhold, away from the overbearing weight of memory and emotion, the air felt clearer. It was easier to breathe. Every step they took away from the Keep, the easier it became. Natalie threw her head back and inhaled. The cold air rushed into her nostrils, clearing away the cobwebs that had gathered in her brain. It felt amazing to be away again. To be free.

Hale appeared to be feeling much the same as she was. The lines that had taken up permanent residence between his eyebrows were gone and his face was clear and open, more than she had seen it… probably ever. He looked younger and happier, his posture straighter, his shoulders less tense. It was like looking at a whole new man. Or elf, as it were.

“You look like you just lost ten years and a hundred pounds.” She called to him. 

“More like two hundred pounds!” Hale replied, the smile coming easy to his face. “There’s this Fereldan woman who arrived with one of the Banns who has been rather dogged in her pursuit for weeks now.”

“Yikes. That’s awkward. She know you… uh, don’t play for that team?”

Hale snorted. “Tell me about it, she caught me outside of the door to the tower just last week and professed her undying love for me.” A shudder ran over his shoulders as he remembered the incident. “There may have been poetry involved. Something about my eyes being spring blooms peering from the snows of winter.” He huffed a bit, the tips of his ears turning pink. It must have been some poem to leave him so embarrassed. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I ‘don’t play for that team’, as you so eloquently put it.”

“You ran away, didn’t you?’ Natalie teased, already knowing the answer to her question. 

“Sure did. Like a terrified field mouse.”

She cackled like a cartoon witch as she imagined Hale, normally so full of confident swagger, bug-eyed and scurrying away from the woman in question. “Of course, you did, you big chicken.”

“Come on! That woman has at least fifty pounds of pure muscle on me and arms as thick as tree trunks. She’s terrifying. I’m quite sure she could break me in half.”

“You faced down an eight-foot-tall ancient darkspawn and his  _ dragon _ . You’re telling me you can’t handle one woman?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Hale nodded, secure in the knowledge that he was a complete coward. “I’m hoping that we’re gone long enough that some of the visitors get bored and leave.”

An idea dawned on her as he spoke. “So that’s why you were so ready to encourage the rumors? You were trying to convince this woman that you were taken?” The way the male brain worked was sometimes more than she could understand.

Hale laughed, his head thrown back. “No, that was just because I thought it was funny to watch them all stare at us with their mouths open like dead fish.”

Scratch that. The way  _ Hale’s _ brain worked was more than she could understand. She couldn’t attribute his oddities to all men. He was one of a kind. “How old are you again?”

He squinted, looking up into the sky as he made a humming noise in his throat. “Hmm, last I checked, about twelve?” A lopsided grin plastered itself across his face as he turned his gaze to her, green eyes glittering.

Natalie just shook her head. There was no way to respond to that.

The chatter died down after that, with both of them enjoying the simple freedom that came with being free of all the usual scrutiny. The freedom to just be Natalie and Hale. With Corypheus vanquished and the Rifts closed, their trek through the Ferelden countryside was uneventful. There were, by far, less demons than the last journey she had gone on with him. Less demons was good. She could get used to less demons. Not to mention less Red Templars. As day turned to night and then back again over and over, they covered mile after mile of mountains, passing through Redcliffe. The scenery gradually bled into brown farmland, already harvested and dormant for the coming Winter. 

Once, as a child, her father had taken her on a road trip to the Ozarks. Through the side window of her dad’s beat up Dodge Dakota, she had watched endless fields of corn and soybeans and cows pass by as they traveled through Illinois and into Missouri. The scenery now reminded her of that trip. So much so that she half expected to look over and find her dad riding next to her, belting out the Allman Brothers in his rich baritone as they flew down I-70.

If you squinted, the druffalo looked a little like big, shaggy cows. That was the same, right? Instead, she had an elf who entertained her with bawdy drinking songs that would have made even the Iron Bull blush. 

Who was she kidding? Bull probably taught them to him.

Life certainly is strange.

For a moment, she felt a surge of homesickness well up in her belly, just before she had to remind herself that he was dead. She wasn’t ever going to drive that highway again. Not to mention the nagging doubt that she even had the right to call him her dad. 

The days passed by swiftly, bringing them closer to Highever where they would cross the Waking Sea and sail up the coast to Wycome. Natalie’s body ached after the long days in the saddle, but Daisy seemed happy to be out and about again after so many months of growing fat in Skyhold’s stable. 

At night, they pitched a single tent and lay their bedrolls beside one another. It seemed foolish to waste time constructing two of them when they were perfectly comfortable sharing. They had spent many nights in the past months together in that huge Orlesian bed in his rooms, drinking wine and gabbing like sorority sisters. After the months she had spent with her elven lover, she was used to the feeling of a body next to hers, even if it was only for comfort. Hale was willing to indulge her, although there was not much time for it between their turns at watch. But it was never the same.

Now, as she sat awake on watch listening to the sound of Hale’s breathing just inside the tent, her heart tried to convince her it was someone else entirely. The soft breaths, muffled against the pillow. Warm arms. Gentle fingers. Hushed words whispered in the dark. 

Natalie shook herself, raking a hand down her face to clear away the ghosts of the past from her skin.  _ No!  _ She was not going down this road. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Never. It was mildly infuriating that her brain kept trying to send her reminders.  _ Shut up, asshole. I get it. I haven't forgotten _ . 

As if she could forget any of it, even if she wanted to. The memories always came in the dark hours, the in between hours. The hours when she lay awake, too afraid to feel the lack of his presence to enter the Fade. Too afraid that she would sleep only to find him standing there waiting.

With a sigh of disgust, Natalie leaned her head back against the tent pole and closed her eyes.  _ This is bullshit. _

A crackle skittered across her mind, jolting her from her thoughts. Something brushed against the wards she had set around the camp. Cold fingers sunk into her brain as her eyes flew open, her ears awake and listening for any further sound in an instant. Blood rushed in her ears as she strained to make out any further noises. It was quiet. Through the trees, nothing moved. 

Again, she felt the brush of something against her magic, like the scraping of nails on her skin. Heart pounding, she sat straight up. Something was outside of their camp. It had not crossed the wards, but it was testing them. A trickle of magic pooled in her fingers, ready and waiting for her command. She did not want to let the lightning gather in her palm, sure that the light would alert whatever was lurking in between the trees to her attention. It was still silent. Too silent. The measured sound of Hale’s breathing had quieted. He must have heard her movements. 

Careful to keep her movements silent, Natalie rose to her feet, clutching her staff in one hand as she peered into the darkness. Still nothing. Tension coiled within her, muscles turning to stone as she waited. 

More ripples fluttered along the magical barriers. A twig snapped behind the tent and Natalie whirled, holding her staff out in front of her and flooding it with blazing lightning. She was stunned at how quickly the destructive magic jumped to do her bidding. It had been many months since she had cause to use any magic beyond a simple healing spell or to set the wards. But now, a surge of power filled her chest and spilled down her arms into the wood in her hands. 

She was so distracted by her surprise that she didn’t notice Hale crawl slowly from the tent, his chest bare and wicked curved daggers clasped in his hands. His face was tinged purple in the hazy light of her flaring staff. Hale narrowed his eyes, his face sending her the clear question  _ Where are they? _

Jerking her head in the direction of the forest behind their tent, Natalie willed the brilliant light from the staff to dim and padded lightly to inspect the noise. Her heart was thudding so loudly against her ribs, she was surprised she hadn’t given them away from the sound alone. Leaves crackled from beyond the treeline. Her wards pulsed, sending blaring alarm bells into her brain. Whatever it was had breached them, and from the sound of it, was well on its way toward them. 

Strong fingers stopped her. Hale loomed over her, catching her gaze and indicating that she should stand behind a tree, out of sight. He took up a similar position opposite her. 

The bushed shook between them. Natalie’s fingers clenched around the staff, magic filling her blood and singing in her ears. Time slowed to a crawl as the branches parted, a dark shape looming beyond. 

Hale’s arm raised, his form blurring into a dark void that forced her eyes from him. 

A foot with soft flat shoes stepped into the clearing. Long, thin legs. A lanky form. And on top, a hat with an enormous brim. 

Abruptly, Natalie let go of the magic she had been gathering. It rushed from her body to retreat to the Veil, leaving her a little light-headed. “Cole!”

The brim lifted, revealing the thing pale face and floppy blonde bangs in the shadows beneath. “I could hear your sadness. I wanted to help.”

Hale reappeared as abruptly as he had vanished. “Cole! What are you doing here? Have you been following us this whole time?”

“Yes.” Cole looked somewhat bewildered

A vein pulsed in Hale’s temple as he clenched his jaw together. “Cole.” His voice was surprisingly calm, considering. “Why did you wait this long to tell us you were behind us? Why pop out in the middle of the night?”

“I thought that you be angry, but I wanted to go with you.”

Hale’s mouth opened, his jaw working as he searched for the words. Natalie put her hand on Hale’s sleeve, stopping him. “Why didn’t you just ask to come with us?”

Cole’s eyes focused on Hale, fuzzy and far-away. “The castle suffocates. The same places, same people. They all want something. Haven’t I done enough?”

A shaky breath escaped from Hale’s mouth, his eyes fixed on Cole. Natalie felt a stab of guilt. Is that really how Hale felt? It was justified. He was a man of many obligations. She was such an asshole for not noticing, for being so focused on her own bullshit. Here she was, dragging him along on yet another thing he felt obligated to do. 

“So you thought you would just follow, rather than ask? Because you thought you would be a burden?” Hale sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re not a burden, Cole.” He rubbed the back of his hand against one of his eyes, his face scrunched and exhausted. “Is this really what you want?”

Cole nodded, his eyes wide in his pale face. “I want to help.”

“Fine.” Hale plodded to the tent, his daggers still clutched in his hands. He was bent, like he carried all his fatigue on his back. As he reached the flaps, he turned to face them. “If I’m going to take the last watch, I need more sleep. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Natalie nodded, still feeling somewhat guilty about his current state. If she hadn’t insisted on this journey, he could be at home in his own bed right now. And for that matter, so could she. “Go get some sleep. Anything that needs to be said can wait.”

A brisk nod is all the answer she got before he disappeared into the flaps. Cole seemed to gravitate to her side. “Favors, freely given. They don’t feel the same as the ones that are forced. He is here because he wants to be.”

She would never get used to the way he read thoughts and emotions. “Thank you, Cole.”

“You need sleep. I will keep watch.”

Natalie shook her head.  “You don’t have to do that. It’s my turn.”

“I do not need it as much as you do. I do not mind.”

The will to fight him left her in a rush. His face was so serious and her mind so tired that she was in no mood to turn down a decent night’s sleep. “I will check the wards first.” The leaves crackled underfoot as she moved toward the trees, intent on walking the perimeter she had set earlier. Before they could swallow her fully, she turned to look over her shoulder. “Cole?”

He stood in the pale moonlight, his skin and clothing washed into monochrome. His pale eyes watched her as she walked away. “Natalie?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I'm on a roll and way too impatient to to wait to post until next week, so you all get to reap the benefits. 
> 
> Thanks to all of you who are sticking around for part two! I'm so excited to go on this journey with you. (That was cheesy, and it rhymed... I'm sorry.)


	42. Beyond the Sea

Wycome was not what she expected. Rather than a quaint fishing village, it stood at the juncture of river and ocean as a fortified city in its own right. Heavy stone walls made of cobblestone and dotted with watchtowers surrounded the city on three sides. Massive docks took up most of the fourth, trade ships lining the coastline with a forest of masts and rigging as far as the eye could see. The docks themselves were bustling as their ship made landfall, jostling against the wooden mooring as the sailors cast out their loops of rope to pull them in. Voices shouted unintelligible orders as great crates of cargo were unloaded, swinging over the heads of the small figures that darted back and forth. Why she had expected a tiny village she didn’t know, but Wycome was much, much more.

Beyond the roughness of the dockside, narrow cobbled streets wove between crooked rows of buildings covered in colorful stucco in shades of yellow and blue and green and white with tiny glimpses of red brick peeking out from beneath. Walls of climbing ivy and roses covered the stone and plaster, joining with the other bursts of color. Black iron balconies and window boxes filled with rioting greenery added to the charming picture the city made. The air was much warmer than it had been in Highever when they left, the touches of winter that had turned the air hard and chill missing. Here it held a hint of moisture and the salty scent of the sea.

Natalie stood wide eyed at the railing as she took it all in. Hale’s solemn face peered out next to her. “This is where you are from?”

Hale crossed his arms over his chest. “Not the city itself, but not far. A few miles maybe, if they are still in the same place they were before I left.”

“It’s beautiful.” She breathed in the salty air, meaning every word. The city was charming, colorful. She loved it already.

Hale’s face split into a faint smile. “You don't have much to compare it to. There is definitely a lot less mud than in Fereldan, and less abject poverty than Sahrnia.”

“And less snow than Skyhold, thank god.” She could feel the pressure in her cheeks as she grinned, eager to get off of this boat and see the rest of what this new city had to offer. “And I have plenty to compare it to. I’ve lived in cities my whole life.”

“I imagine this one looks different from the ones you’re used to.”

She nodded. “It does, but in a good way. It’s cute.”

“Cute?”

Her eyebrow arched as she looked at him sideways. “Yes, cute.”

He shook his head, the judgment palpable. “Whatever you say.”

The sailors called out to the dock workers, booming voices interrupting their conversation. With glacial speed, they lowered the gangplank. Docked. _Finally_.

Butterflies fluttered in her chest as she realized that they were getting off of this godforsaken boat. Five days of sea travel had been more than enough, especially since she had spent much of it clutching her stomach, more nauseous than she had even been in her life. How people spent weeks on water traveling from place to place, she would never understand. Planes, trains, and automobiles for the win, for sure. Well, and horseback. Despite their undignified beginning, Natalie found herself rather fond of Daisy.

“If you get the bags, I’ll get Cole and make sure he’s ready to go.” Natalie clapped her hand on his shoulder. “I can’t wait to get off of this floating torture chamber.” And she was sure Cole felt the same. The spirit boy had joined her in her misery for much of the trip, the water not mixing well with his stomach either.

It took entirely too long for their horses to make their way from the belly of the ship. Natalie stood tapping her foot on the weather-beaten wood of the docks. All around here, people hurried. It seemed like she was the only one standing still, but the most anxious to be moving. She had stood stagnant for nine months, maybe even longer. Now she was doing something. It was such a relief.

After what seemed like hours to her impatient mind, Daisy stood beside Hale’s chestnut gelding. She shook her gray mane, looking as eager to be gone as her mistress.

Natalie patted her dappled neck, feeling the velvet smoothness beneath her fingers. “Ready to go?” In her mind, Daisy responded in a high, whinny. _Ready!_ Natalie had to roll her eyes at herself for that one. When had she become addled enough to start talking to her damn horse?

“Ready to go?” The echoing of the nonsensical question startled her. Hale stepped up behind her, Cole at his shoulder.

Natalie nodded. “Ready!” And now she was not only talking to a horse, but responding like one. _Get your shit together, Nat,_ she thought as she swung her leg over Daisy's wide back. Cole moved to mount behind her, his slight form sitting flush against her. He had taken turns riding pillion behind the two of them since the night he had revealed that he was following them, to reduce the strain on the horses.

Wycome unfurled before them like the petals of a flower, its winding streets streaking off like veins from the main roads between the homes and shops. Lanes branched off into multitudes of shadowed walkways and alleys. There were people everywhere, vendors hawking their wares, shoppers running their family errands. Children played in the alleys, their bell-like voices adding to the organized mayhem of everything else. The air was scented with roasted meats and fresh bread, sweet wines and wheat-laden beer, fresh green plants and the heady smell of blooming flora. It was chaos and joy and _life,_ utterly unlike anywhere she had ever seen before. Natalie loved it instantly. As they rode, she felt her heart lift. This felt right. For the first time in months, she felt like she was where she needed to be.

Passing beyond the thick stone walls, she got her first good look at the surrounding countryside. Hills rolled away from the city, waves of tall golden grass blowing in the warm breeze. Trees rose in one direction, erupting from the unspoiled grasslands like sentinels standing protectively before the low mountains far beyond, hazy and gray on the edge of the horizon. In the other, a patchwork of farmland painted the landscape in greens and yellows and browns. The picture of pastoral beauty; Its painting could have graced the walls of any museum she had ever been to.  

Cole’s weight was warm on her back, his slight body tucked against hers as Daisy picked her way down the dusty road of well-trod earth. “The air smells like sunlight.” Cole’s soft voice came right by her ear.

Natalie glanced back at him, her lips quirking up at the corners. He was right. The air did indeed smell like sunlight. She was surprised his answer wasn’t that it smelled like sweat because there was definitely some of that happening underneath her light leather armor. Her hairline was beginning to grow damp from the intensity of the sun high in the sky. “It does. It’s lovely.”

Cole paused, his eyes scanning the surrounding land. The brim of his hat brushed the back of her head. “It wasn’t always sunlight. Darkness boils beneath the surface as their children turn red inside. Sick and dying, they blame the others for being safe.”

A chill skittered down her spine. “What do you mean, Cole?”

“The ones outside the wall must die. It’s their fault.”

Natalie’s head whipped around, her gaze meeting Cole’s as alarm bells rang in her mind. “Who is going to die, Cole?”

“He means my clan.” Hale’s face was stone as he interrupted them. “It doesn’t matter now, we took care of the problem months ago.”

“The townspeople tried to kill your clan? What happened?” She was appalled. Why would the townsfolk want to murder an entire clan of Dalish elves?

“Venatori. Red lyrium. Conspiracies to murder my entire clan. You know, the usual.” His tone was flippant, but the furrows between his brows told a different story. His teeth clenched together, Hale took a deep breath. “The Duke of Wycome was allied with the Venatori. He was putting red lyrium in the wells in the city. The townsfolk blamed my clan because they weren’t getting sick, which meant they were obviously poisoning the humans.” He shook his head, his eyes closing for a moment. “The Inquisition stopped the massacre of the Dalish from happening, but there is trust broken here that is not yet rebuilt. It may never be.”

She stared at Hale, her mind blank. When had all this happened? How had she not known? Either Hale had been very hush-hush about it all or she was really that wrapped up in her own bullshit. For the second time in less than a week, she was left feeling like a selfish jerk. “Hale, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Like I said. It doesn’t matter now.”

Long moments stretched in awkward silence as Natalie turned her thoughts over in her mind, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. “Is that really how it is? The humans get sick and they just blame the elves for it?”

Hale’s answering laugh was dripping in derision. “You would be surprised the things that we get blamed for.”

When he offered no further explanation, she dropped the subject. It was clear that he didn’t wish to talk about it any further. She suspected she didn’t really want to know the details. In the two years she had lived in this land, she had gotten a sense of the tension and distrust that simmered just below the surface between elf and human, but she was ashamed that she had never stopped to think about how bad it was. Even knowing that Hale’s people were kept as slaves in other countries, the truth of the situation had not been at the forefront of her mind. Being blind to injustice was easy when it was not yours to experience. It was obvious that this visit would prove to be eye-opening on more than one level.

“It’s only two or three more miles, just over that rise.” Hale raised his arm to point toward the hills in the distance. “There is a small valley there that my clan calls home.”

Hale was not one to talk at length about his family, only that he was the youngest and only brother in a pack of sisters and that his parents were alive and well. Were they on bad terms? Over hours of talking, Natalie had shared much of her childhood. She was curious about Hale’s, but he had always been cagey. His words that night in his room came back to her.

 _“Just wait until you meet the rest of the_ _Lavellans_ _.”_

_“That bad?”_

_“You’ll see.”_

Natalie was intrigued, curious about the people who had raised such a colorful character. “Will we meet your sisters?”

“I assume so.” The short answer was telling.

“Are they that bad?” She asked.

“There are so many of them. Smothering. Suffocating. Too many mothers for one son.” Cole interrupted, his insights at once telling everything but explaining nothing.

Hale snorted in disgust, rolling his eyes. “As usual, Cole, you are quite on the nose.”

“Ahh, I see.” Natalie narrowed her eyes. “They’re not awful, they just treat you like the baby.”

Hale’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m not discussing this. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

“He does not like to feel small.” You could always trust Cole to get to the heart of an issue.

Natalie snorted, holding back a laugh. Hale glared at the two of them as he brought his horse to a halt, his eyes piercing under a hawkish brow. He simply stared for a moment, his expression so severe that Natalie felt the giggles building in her chest. For a moment, it looked like he was actually going to be angry, his cheeks pinked and his eyes sparkled, but as she struggled to hold in her laughter, his face softened and broke into a smile. Shaking his head, Hale rolled his eyes at her. “My sisters are a handful of years older than I am. It was like growing up with four mothers instead of one. I never got away with anything as a child. There was always a sister there to wag her finger and tell me I should know better.”

“And that’s why you’re so perverse now? Because you can be?”

“Exactly.” Hale’s smile grew into a grin. “I can’t wait to watch them do it to you too.”

A kernel of trepidation sparked in her gut. She wanted to make a good impression on Hale’s family, but she knew the Dalish did not always have the best feelings towards humans. Oh god, and Cole. What would they think of him too? How had this not dawned on her before now? “Is this really okay?”

“What do you mean?” Hale pressed his knees into his horse’s side, urging it onward.

Natalie had no choice but to follow. “Bringing Cole and I here. I was under the impression that your people aren’t the best with outsiders.” She felt the hot tingle of anxiety on the back of her neck.

“I’ll take care of it. Just don’t wander too far by yourself.”

That was reassuring.

As they crested the rise he had pointed to earlier, a wide valley came into view below them. Golden grasses waved down the slopes, giving way to scrub and then trees as the land dipped and nestled in between the hills. She could see the gap where a river cut a path through the trees.

There was a worn track cutting through the grass and leading into the trees. Hale took his place at the head of their small group, urging their horses to descend the slope as the brush grew taller around their feet. Shadows fell across their faces and the trees started to thicken. The air cooled, causing the sweat beading on her face to send a chill across her skin. A strange sort of awareness made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Natalie’s eyes darted to and fro, seeking out the shadows behind the trees. Nothing. She could see nothing, but there was something there. Something watching.

Before she could capture Hale’s attention, a shrill cry went up from the forest. Black birds took flight, startled by the sudden noise. Their squawking voices and beating wings created a flurry of noise in the quiet woods.

“Halt! State your business!” An older woman, fair of skin with eyes of palest gray and hair like moonlight spilling in braids over dark leather armor, stepped out from between the trees. Striking lines of deep blue slashed across her forehead and down each cheek, meeting below her bottom lip and running down her chin. The glinting point of her arrow shone in the fading sunlight as she held her drawn bow out, the deadly point aimed at Hale’s chest. In an instant, her fears about their reception at the hands of the Dalish seemed well-founded.

Hale’s face remained smooth, unbothered by the weapon aimed at his heart. He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the pommel of his saddle and his chin in his hand. For all appearances, he looked _bored._ “An’eth’ara, asa’ma’lin. When did you start looking like an old woman?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, flashing with irritation behind long lashes. There was something distinct and familiar about that feline glare, but Natalie couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. “About the same time you started sounding like a bleating halla’s ass.”

Hale’s brow lifted. It was obvious these two knew each other. _Of course they know each other, idiot, they’re from the same clan._ “Oh, so always?”

A tiny curve appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

He cocked his head to the side, his long, white hair falling over his shoulder. “Are you going to let me into camp? Or are you just going to keep pointing that at me? Because I’m tired and, if you're going to shoot me, I’d rather you just get on with it.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Huffing laughter answered him, but she didn’t lower the arrow. “Are you aware you’re bringing two humans into our camp, _Inquisitor?”_

“Humans? Is that what they are?” Hale raised his head to look back at them, giving Natalie a wink. “I had no idea. I thought they were trained nugs.”

With an exaggerated roll of her pale eyes, the woman grunted and deigned to lower her bow. “You could have at least warned us you were coming. Mama is going to have your head for nearly getting yourself blown up and then not coming to see her for three years.”

Ah, so that was it. This must be one of the older sisters he had mentioned. Natalie felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. Now that she looked at them together, the resemblance was striking. Was the arrow to the chest supposed to be a joke? “Deshanna was aware. I wrote to her weeks ago before we left Skyhold.” Hale replied.

“Did Keeper Istimaethoriel know you were bringing an entourage, Haleir? Much ill fortune has befallen us since you left to attend the Conclave, and many have not been so easy to welcome strangers as they once were.”

“That is between the Keeper and I.” Hale beckoned to Natalie, motioning for her to bring Daisy abreast of his horse. “Viera, this is Natalie and Cole. Cole is a member of the group that helped me defeat Corypheus and Natalie is a healer of great skill. This is my sister, Viera. She is a pain in the ass as you can probably tell.”

Viera snorted. It seemed more likely that Hale was the pain in the ass, most of the time. Maybe it ran in the family. Natalie nodded to her, a smile on her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Viera.”

To Natalie’s surprise, the smile Viera gave her was genuine. Her face softened as she studied Natalie with intense eyes. Maybe her gruff manner was all for Hale. “An’daran atish’an, Natalie. You will have to speak with our sister, Emmaera, when you reach the camp. She is our clan’s healer. I am sure she would be pleased to share knowledge with you. Our sister is a great collector of healing techniques.”

Natalie’s face split into a smile. “I would like that very much.”

Viera tipped her head, stowing the arrow she had threatened her brother with in the quiver on her back and slinging the bow over her shoulder. “Come, I will escort you to the main camp.”

With no further prompting, Viera turned on her heel and marched off between the trees. They scrambled to follow, the swaying grasslands gradually disappearing behind them. Natalie took a deep breath. She didn’t know what to expect when they reached the Dalish camp, but she threw up a prayer to the heavens that it wouldn’t be more arrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! A bit of necessary worldbuilding here, since Wycome is mostly a blank slate in canon. Hope you enjoyed it! As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Y'all ready to meet Clan Lavellan?


	43. Who Says You Can't Go Home

Viera was obviously a woman of few words. They lead their horses in silence through the trees, a symphony of birdsong and the soft crunch of leaf and twig underfoot keeping them company. Like the slow sweep of a waxing moon, other noises began to filter through the trees. The solid thwack of an axe chopping woods. A distinctive metallic clang as hammer met metal. Voices, the deep and sonorous melding with the bell-like chimes of children. Laughter. 

As they broke through the treeline, a riot of color blossomed in the clearing in front of her. Brightly colored tents made of vivid red fabric were set up around small wooden carts with painted designs decorating the wood. Streamers fluttered in the trees above them. A cooking fire burned merrily, a dozen women moving around it. There were people everywhere, from the elderly who sat on a ring of logs near the center of the camp, to the pack of children of all ages who were chasing each other in a game that looked very much like tag.

Suddenly, Natalie felt very out of place as she walked behind Hale, Daisy’s reigns clutched tightly in her white-knuckled fist. Her heart beat like a bass drum in her chest as she was seized with the sudden fear that there was no way any of these people were going to accept her here, in their sanctuary.

“Hale!” A cry went up from the crowd. Every pair of eyes was suddenly on them, the noise dying away in an instant as everyone seemed to draw a collective breath. 

Then it was chaos. Every voice rose at once, bodies swarming Hale as his clan welcomed him back into their bosom. A wide grin was plastered across his handsome face, his posture relaxed as he was embraced and patted and lauded by his kinsman. It was clear that they held him in high regard. Natalie wondered if that predated his role in the events of the past couple of years, or if that was courtesy of his actions as Inquisitor. 

Hale’s laughter carried over the din surrounding him as he greeted each and every person by name. He asked after family members, how the harvests had been, if good fortune had found them in his absence. It was different from the way he had treated with those in Skyhold. There, his gaze was shadowed, true intentions always hidden behind a mask of seemingly idle boredom. Here, he was open. This was the Hale she saw when they were alone, when his facade fell away and he was free to be himself. 

“Where is my son?” The rumbling voice of a woman parted the crowd. Between the greeters and the well-wishers, an older woman of more than middle years pushed her way through. She was lovely in the manner of dried flowers, her face lined and wilted but still showing the shadows of its former glory and no less beautiful for it. Long white braids marched above her ears, pulling the hair away from her angular face. Though her skin was faded and weather-worn, bright green eyes blazed like emeralds from their sockets. Hale was the very image of his mother.

“Mae!” Hale shouted, turning only to be enveloped in strong, wiry arms. 

“Ma’hallain.” She called, fat tears pooling below her eyes as she embraced her long absent son to her breast like a small child. The pair remained entwined for several moments before his mother released him and grasped his face with both hands so she could look into his eyes. Her face turned from joyful to angry in an instant. “What took you so long to come visit, eh? You leave for what is supposed to be no more than a month and you don’t come back for three years!”

Hale sputtered as his mother released his face and landed a resounding swat on his shoulder. “Mamae…”

“No excuses, Haleir. You can’t write to your mama to let her know you are not dead? No. I have to find out from the Keeper that you almost got yourself killed!”

“Mae, please.” Hale pleaded, the tips of his ears turning pink. He looked like he was wishing for a hole to open up below his feet and swallow him right this very moment.

“And then we hear that you’re running all over Thedas like a vagabond fighting  _ dragons _ . You had better have an explanation for this, isha’len.”

Natalie was forced to stifle her laughter. The whole scene was so comical she almost couldn’t help herself. It reminded her of her Nona, who used to box her ears this same way when she felt that Natalie had gone too long without calling. And poor Hale, his mouth hung open in a most unflattering manner on his cherry red face. Having your mother take you to task in front of a whole mass of people couldn’t be easy. 

“And who is this you have brought with you? You come back and bring friends, and you don’t even introduce them? I know I taught you better behavior than that.”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny now that it was her turn in the spotlight. Her feet were rooted to the ground as she felt the weight of all the scrutiny turn to her. It was an eerie feeling knowing that countless pairs of eyes were all trained on her. She was in no way prepared. 

Hale turned a pleading look towards her, his eyes begging her to come forward before he faced the wrath of his formidable mother again. Swallowing reflexively, Natalie stepped forward with Cole at her back. The elves studied the two of them with intense stares, but said nothing. Hale cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to him. “Mamae, let me introduce Natalie Brooks, she is a master healer and my very dear friend, and Cole, one of the members of my inner circle within the Inquisition. We have some things to discuss with Keeper Istimaethoriel.”

His mother studied the two of them, her piercing gaze missing nothing. Natalie felt stripped, like she could see all of her darkest secrets without Natalie ever having to say a word. It was unnerving. “An’daran Atish’an. It is a pleasure to meet some of the peoplewho have kept my son alive these long years.” His mother inclined her head in their direction. “I am Asvhalla, but you may call me Vhalla. Perhaps you would care to share what my son has been up to for so long without his family, since I am sure he will not tell me the half of it.”

Vhalla’s question was firm, leaving no room for argument. Natalie found herself nodding her head in meek agreement before she even realized what she was doing. “I would be happy to tell you stories of my time with Hale’s organization. I regret that I was not present for many of his more… colorful adventures, however.”

Hale’s mouth thinned into a line as he peered at her over his mother’s head. “Mae, there is no need to press my companions for information. I will tell you what you want to know.”

Vhalla huffed in disbelief as she looked askance at her son. “Come, you must be hungry after your journey. I would not have it be said that Clan Lavellan cannot feed guests as is proper.”

“Natalie, take Cole and go with my mother. I need to find the Keeper and discuss why we are here. I will find you later.” Hale pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek before moving to walk away. “It is good to be home.”

Her smile was fond as their carbon copy eyes met. Vhalla pressed her hand to Hale’s face, her expression soft like she was still doubtful he as really standing before her. “I am glad you have returned safely, ma’halein. Tell Deshanna we should fete tonight in celebration.”

“I will.” Hale pressed another quick kiss to his mother’s cheek before disappearing into the crowd. 

Natalie felt like an unmoored boat left adrift in an unfamiliar ocean with him gone. Suddenly, she was thrust from the sidelines into the full attention of the formidable Vhalla. “Thank you for your hospitality—“ What should she call her? Saying “Mrs. Lavellan” definitely wasn’t right, but it felt strange to address her so informally even though she had been given permission. “—Vhalla.” She finished lamely.

To her credit, Vhalla simply smiled and took Natalie by the arm. “Please, come. You look exhausted. I will show you to where you can rest.”

It seemed that, despite their general distrust of outsiders, the Dalish of Clan Lavellan did not lack warmth. Perhaps it was because Hale had brought them as trusted friend’s, but Vhalla escorted the two of them back to a large tent toward one end of the camp and provided them with pitchers of clear, fresh water for washing and a plate of flat bread and dried meat of some kind. 

Cole, who had been mostly silent since they met Viera outside of the treeline, did not seem to be very interested in either thing and had attempted to roam away almost immediately. Natalie had forced him to promise not to speak to anyone or try to solve any problems before she let him go. The last thing they needed was an angry mob of Dalish running them out of the Valley when they realized what he was. And what she was, for that matter.

Natalie had barely sponged the dust and sweat from her face when a flurry of activity burst into the tent and she was surrounded by bodies once again. There was nothing to do but to simply stand dumbfounded as the chattering group of elves filled the tent with their loud voices all talking over each other. There were sisters and spouses and nieces and nephews and cousins. Hale’s family was  _ huge. _ Far larger than hers, even with her family’s prolific Catholic background. 

Vhalla swept into the room, took one look at the mass chaos and put her fingers in her mouth to blow an ear-splitting whistle. “Everyone out! We will meet at the evening meal tonight.”

With a grumble, the rest of the family started to file out while their matriarch stood sentinel at the doorway to make sure they went. After the atmosphere in the tent had quieted, Vhalla nodded toward a wicker chest near the wall. “There are extra bed linens. We will have a feast tonight. I will make sure no one disturbs you until my son returns.”

Gratitude flooded her chest as Natalie smiled at her. “Thank you. It is appreciated, but please don’t let me inconvenience you.”

“If it was an inconvenience, I would not offer.” 

With a last flash of a arched wintery eyebrow, Natalie was alone once again and exhaustion pulled at her limbs. Plodding across to the chest, she removed a blanket and curled up gratefully on the floor, her eyes closed before her head hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

The world was fuzzy and soft when she woke after an indeterminable amount of time. Grit crusted her exhausted eyes. If she didn’t know that she had just taken a nap, she would be sure that she had been awake for the past forty-eight hours. Natalie lay wrapped in the finely woven blanket and sighed, her eyes trained on the thick red fabric above her. With a groan, she lifted her tired body from the floor and folded the blanket into a neat square, placing it carefully atop the chest. She ached, her muscles stiff with the deep soreness of too many days of travel.

“You awake yet?” Hale’s snowy head poked through the flaps of the tent. At seeing her up and about, a grin spread across his face and he made his way to her. “I came in earlier and you were laying there like a fallen tree, completely oblivious to the world.”

Rubbing her gritty eyes with the back of her hand, Natalie tried to wake herself up. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.”

“Well, wake up, because I have good news and bad news.”

Natalie groaned. “Bad first.”

“Bad news is my mother has whipped the whole damn clan into a frenzy and is planning a huge to-do to celebrate my return. You’ll be expected to be there, and to put up with my whole family.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep so many people straight. Your family is  _ massive.” _

Hale chuckled. “Don’t I know it. They’re—” He sighed, searching for the words to describe them, “—a lot.”

“I do feel like I’m seeing a whole other side of you though. Who would have guessed the great Haleir Lavellan, slayer of dragons and savior of Thedas, would be so easily cowed by his mother?”

“You met the woman! Tell me that you would go against her.” Hale crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes, daring her.

“Oh, no. Nope. I wouldn’t.” Natalie shuddered a bit at the thought. Vhalla was formidable. “You said there was good news too?”

Hale’s posture relaxed. “Ah, yes. I spoke to our Keeper. She was placed on the unified city council of Wycome after the Duke was found to be in league with the Venatori, so she has some contact within the city and the surrounding area. She agreed to pull on a few threads and flush out any rumors of a person falling from a rift.”

“You didn’t tell her about me, did you?” Natalie’s heart skipped a beat.

“Of course not. It’s your business if you want people to know all that.”

There was a rush of relief following his words. “So you think she will be able to find out? I mean, if even Leliana couldn’t find more specific information—”

“Deshanna has plenty of skills of her own and a good relationship with Ladanelan, the man the city elves elected to represent them on the Wycome council. Don’t underestimate how invisible a person can be when those around them see them as beneath their notice.”

Natalie nodded, her heart clenching in her chest. “Okay.”

“Why don’t you clean up? I think they plan on getting the festivities started soon.” Hale reached outside of the tent flaps and produced a small bundle, tossing it at her. “Some clean clothes until you can wash yours, because I know you must be nearly out by now and I’m tired of smelling you.”

He wasn’t wrong. Her pack was full of filthy clothing covered in a fine dusting of gray horse hair, and a quick sniff proved his second point correct as well. “Thank you.”

“I’ll meet you outside the tent when you’re done.” With that, he disappeared back out into the camp.

Natalie was stripped, sponged and redressed in record time, her heart pounding the whole time as she rushed to cover herself before someone else came bursting into the tent. The bundle Hale brought turned out to contain a pair of slim fitting leggings and a layered tunic that draped around her torso and hips before cinching together at the waist with a wide leather belt. It was all a little ill-fitting, as she was not near as willowy as the petite elven women she had seen in the camp, but it was comfortable and clean and certainly smelled better than her own clothing. She sent up a silent thanks that she was short, so at least she didn’t have to contend with it all being too short as well as too tight. Making quick work of braiding her tangled curls, she ducked out of the flaps and back into the camp.

“Well, it looks like that doesn’t fit you too badly.” A small elven woman stood with Hale near the family’s cooking fire. Natalie started, doing a double take as she peered at the snowy white hair and pale gray eyes. She looked like Viera, but the voice did not match the one that had threatened Hale in the forest that afternoon.

Hale, seeing her confusion, laughed. “Natalie, this is my sister, Saeris. And yes, they are twins.”

Saeris chuckled. “Sorry, I was under the impression that my brother would have told you  _ something  _ about his family.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. You just looked so much like her that I was confused for a minute.”

“We get that a lot, right up until we open our mouths. Viera and I may be identical in looks, but the same cannot be said for attitude.” Saeris reached out a hand to usher Natalie to sit at a stump placed near the fire. A plate hit Natalie’s chest as she shoved it at her. “Eat, we can’t have a guest wasting away!” Saeris shoved a second to her brother with a stern look. “You too, esa’ma’lin. You are too thin! Do the humans not feed you down in the South?”

Smiling inwardly, she tucked into the same flat bread she had neglected earlier and some small round fruit that looked strikingly similar to grapes. “Have you seen, Cole?” She asked Hale.

He nodded around grudging bites of bread. “Last I saw him, some of the children were teaching him a counting game. He’s staying out of trouble, if that’s what you are asking.”

“I don’t think he would cause trouble, but you know how he is. People can be touchy.”

Hale’s eyebrow rose. “I do indeed. I remember how you reacted the first time you met him.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. “That’s exactly why I was concerned. He promised he would try his best to keep his thoughts to himself.”

“There hasn’t been an issue yet. I tried to warn them that he is perceptive, so they wouldn’t be totally caught off guard if he does decide to be helpful.”

“That’s good. I—”

Her words were cut off by the arrival of Vhalla and a taller man at the start of his twilight years with tawny skin and long chestnut hair streaked with silver. “Haleir!” The man moved to embrace Hale.

“Baba, it’s good to see you.” Hale replied.

“Come, there is food and  _ mavash _ . We will celebrate the victorious return of our lost son!”

As it turned out,  _ mavash _ was a type of fruity ale the Dalish favored, very different than the kind sold back at the Herald’s Rest. It was smooth on her tongue and throat, missing the bitter alcohol taste she was used to. Natalie found herself drinking it in quantity, especially because Hale and his sisters made sure her cup was never empty.

The night was a blur of faces, laughing and joking, some distrustful, others curious, but for the most part all of them friendly. There was another sister, this one obviously the oldest and dark like their father. Emmaera was their clan’s First, a mage and a healer. Natalie liked her instantly. She had a calm, warm energy that was like cuddling into a blanket on a winter day, but it was obvious she had a spine of steel like their mother. And, she was a genius with herbs and remedies. The two women swapped knowledge over the fire, with Emmaera promising to let Natalie assist her in her stillroom… or stilltent, as it were.

Then there were spouses. Veira sat near the fire with her partner, fair Viera a striking picture against her wife’s burnt umber skin and ebony curls like the moon against the night sky. Emmaera and Saeris were both married with a veritable mob of children and grandchildren between them. It startled Natalie to learn that either of them were old enough to even have grandchildren. When Hale had told her he was the baby, she hadn’t realized he meant he was  _ really _ the baby. His sisters had to be near to ten years older than he was. For someone raised as an only child, being around a family this large was overwhelming.

Music filled the air as a group took up a series of stringed instruments and drums of different sizes. Hale came by and swept her away from his sister and into his arms for a lively dance. Natalie was sure he quickly regretted his impulsivity when she trod on his toes for the fourth time, but his laughing face said otherwise. Other pairs wove around them, their steps more practiced. The hard beat of the drums throbbed in her veins, filling her with wild energy. He swung her around until they were both panting and covered in sweat and the moon had risen in the sky.

By the end of the night, the sweet ale and endless dancing had caught up with her. Her head swam, the faces around the fires no longer in focus and the ground tilting underfoot. Both of them stumbling, Hale pulled her away from the circle of the campfires and toward a different tent, smaller than the one belonging to his parents.

“Is mine.” He said, his words slurring together. “Was mine. Before. We can stay here.”

The beds inside were soft, which was all that mattered as she flopped onto one of them. From somewhere in the darkness, she heard the muffled thumping of Hale flopping onto a second mattress. He groaned and grumbled as the world turned like a top around her. Sucking in a wavering breath, she willed her limbs to still just as blackness came to claim her.

 

* * *

 

Warm breath brushed her cheek, raising gooseflesh along her skin. The tingle of lips on her flesh raised a groan from her throat. Long fingers explored below the linen fabric of her tunic, bringing soft sighs and moans to fill the spaces between them. Pine and leaves. Cinnamon. Spicy and smoky and enthralling. The scent of his skin filled her nose and she lost herself in the heady feeling of coming home after a long time away as his body pressed her into the mattress.

His lips were plush and soft as he captured hers in a blistering kiss. Clutching arms and frantic fingers tangled together as they battled with lips and tongues and teeth. They devoured each other. Heat pooled low in her belly as she felt her legs settle open, letting his weight fall full against her.

He came up for air, trailing wet kisses down her belly as he pushed her shirt up and out of the way. She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his scalp, her fingers feeling the pointed tips of his ears. This. This is what she needed. His hot mouth traced the dip of her bellybutton, leaving the muscles beneath to clench in anticipation.

_ Yes. _

It had been so long.

She opened her eyes and stared down at him. Raging fire burned in his pale blue eyes as looked at her, his thumbs hooking into the band of her leggings as his breath rolled across her bare skin.

_ Yes. _

The fabric began to slide from her hips.

_ Oh god. Please. _

Cool air danced across her overheated flesh as he exposed it, sending shivers down her spine.

_ Just a little farther. _

The piercing howl of a wolf jolted her awake.

Her eyes flew open, taking in the waving of tree branches against the green-tinged sky above her head. A familiar rushing of water echoed into her ears. Natalie sat up, her heart beating so hard she could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath her shirt. A shirt that was doing a great job covering her skin. Skin that was still pulsing with remembered passion. A creeping urgency simmered in her veins and made her clench her thighs together.

She was alone. Alone on the banks of the river where she had met him in the Fade so many times before. Her thoughts were slow to gather, still hazy from the alcohol and the vivid dream. There was no doubt in her mind that that was all it had been. A dream. A delusion of her own lonely frustrations. How disappointing.

It felt odd to really dream after so long of entering the Fade fully lucid. She would have to remember not to drink so much in the future… or maybe drink more so that she could stay to see it through.

Another wolf cried in the distance, its voice pressing in on her. She had the strangest feeling that it was warning her.

Warning her about what?

The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. A foul smell, like rotting meat and blood, assailed her. Leaves crackled behind her. Natalie whirled around, feeling the flood of magic flow into her fingers.

Soft laughter, colored with insanity around the edges, floated through the trees. A shifting darkness materialized from the shadows, its massive form draped in black velvet that hid its features and crowned in great golden horns. Her pulse raced, pounding in her ears.

_ What the fuck? _

It glided toward her, its presence exuding a discordant energy that set every one of her nerves on edge. It reached out a hand to her, spindly fingers tipped with long nails and colored black like frostbite.

Her legs seized up, her vision narrowing until all she could see was those long talons glinting in the hazy green light of the Fade. The breath left her lungs as they refused to draw in any more.

They reached toward her.

“I see you.” The rumbling voice tumbled from the deep recesses of its black garments, freezing the blood in her veins.

From the woods around them, a chorus of howls rose up. Jarring in the quiet forest.

She felt her body jerk as she startled awake.

 

* * *

 

Natalie awoke, soaked in cold sweat. Her head pounded. Her mouth was paper dry and filled with her swollen tongue. Hazy light soaked through the fabric of the tent. Across from her, Hale was sprawled across his bed, still fully dressed from the night before. His soft snores were like a marching band in her aching head. Cole had come back at some point, and he lay curled up on the rug like a scruffy, blonde cat. 

Blurry memories of the night before danced in and out between black holes where she remembered nothing. One thing was sure, she was going to make a point to avoid  _ mavash _ from now on. It was far stronger than it tasted, and apparently had the side effect of causing scandalous dreams about her disappearing ex. Not cool.

The remnants of that dream turned nightmare still swirled in her mind’s eye.

_ “I see you.” _

She could hear the voice still, like the rumbling cacophony of water rushing through a dark cavern. Like secrets and mysteries kept hidden away for millennia. Secrets better off unknown.

A chill ran down her spine.

What the fuck.


	44. A Change is Gonna Come

Birds.  _ Why were there so many birds?  _

She had seen them regularly over the past couple of weeks since they arrived in the Lavellan encampment. Freaking birds. 

Ravens, obviously ferrying messages from Skyhold and Val Royeaux. Those were to be expected. Hale was, after all, still Inquisitor and head of the organization. There were decisions that could not wait for him to return to make them, particularly since it did not appear that he was in any hurry to do so.

The pigeons carried word to and from the Dalish, and between the Dalish and the humans they still chose to communicate with. Natalie learned that the clan was far-flung, inhabiting a good deal more of the valley than this one camp. They kept their more vulnerable populations, the infirm, the very old, and the very young, well away from the main camp where they were hidden from any visitors.

Then there were the wild birds, typical sorts that you would find in any forest home. Songbirds and owls, the odd bird of prey. They filled the trees with their sweetly dancing songs. It was nothing of particular note, other than the volume of them.

But this one was different. It soared through the camp like it was preening, with its wings outstretched and its striking black and white plumage on display. The bright blue feathers that lined its wings and tail seemed to glow in the dim light beneath the trees. She saw it several times, flying back and forth through the forest. It would disappear for days before reappearing. Each time, she noted it. Noted the white scroll tied to its leg. What she couldn’t work out was who would send such a bird.

It returned on a sunny afternoon, its contrasting feathers painting streaks of black and blue in the unending green of the forest. Natalie watched it. She had no idea what about this particular bird fascinated her. The knife in her hand slipped as her attention wandered, slicing into the soft meat on the pad of her thumb. With a hiss, the knife fell to the table and the thumb went into her mouth, the metallic tang of blood spreading across her tongue. 

Recoiling, she pulled her bleeding digit from her mouth. It was a disgusting habit, a reflex, and one she was trying to break herself of. Mouths were not clean, the last thing she needed was bacteria in an open cut. 

“Te, Natalie. You must pay attention when you handle blades.” Emmaera’s stern face appeared in her peripheral vision. 

“I’m sorry, Emmaera. I’ll be more careful.” Hale’s sister had the disturbing ability to make her feel like a child at all times. It was hard to remember that she was, in fact, a 31-year-old woman.

“Here, da’len, let me see it.” Natalie found her fingers cradled in Emmaera’s strong grip before she could protest. She tutted as she peered at the cut, shaking her head as if she were treating a child. “Such a silly mistake. Who would think to look at the sky with a knife chopping away at your fingertips?”

Natalie sighed. Emmaera meant well, but she had to admit the lecturing was a little tiresome. “I know.”

The older woman dabbed the wound with a bit of salve and wrapped it carefully in a bit of clean, linen cloth. Emmaera patted her hand before shooing her away from the tent where she kept her apothecary ingredients and tools. “Go, I can see I’m not going to get any more useful work out of you today.”

“Are you sure?” There were half-chopped herbs on the table, still glistening with moisture at their cut ends. A still needed to be set up and the essence from the leaves boiled down. Bottles needed to be washed and sterilized. The work was nowhere near done.

Emmaera swatted at her. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Now get out of my way, I have work to do.”

With a shrug, Natalie wandered away toward the aravel she had been sharing with Hale and Cole. There weren’t many occasions that she explored through the camp. Despite how friendly Hale’s immediate family seemed, the rest of the Dalish seemed to view her with a distrustful eye once the excitement of Hale’s return had worn off. Sure, they were polite on the surface but there was an undercurrent of skeptical caution that she couldn’t shake, and couldn’t really blame them for. She tried to smile and remain as respectful as possible, but it stood that she was a stranger here. A not entirely welcome one. It made her feel too much like she was invading their privacy to venture too far.

Hale was seated at the tiny table in his tent when she reached it, the wooden top littered with paper. His pale head was bent over a long piece of parchment as he scratched words across it with his quill. Correspondence from Skyhold, no doubt. Running an organization such as the Inquisition from afar was no mean feat, but he seemed to manage it. 

His green eyes flashed at her as he looked up at the sound of the tent flap slapping back into place. “Done already?”

Natalie held up her maimed hand. “I got clumsy and your sister kicked me out.”

Hale snorted. “Sounds about right. Emmaera never could tolerate anyone mucking up her precious concoctions.”

“I don’t blame her. Potions are very exact and herbs need to be prepared in a certain—“

“Oh please, spare me.” Hale rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. “I have enough lectures in these letters from Skyhold that I don’t need an extra one.”

Natalie shook her head, frowning as she sat on the stool opposite him with the sea of linen white paper between them. “A lot going on? I’ve seen the messenger birds.” 

He slumped over, his forehead hitting the paper he had been writing on. “It never ends. The Avvar are causing problems in the Frostback Basin and some scholar wants us to come assist, and now Orzammar has put out a call for aid as well.” He sat back up, running his fingers through his hair with a grunt of frustration. “And I fucking  _ hate _ the Deep Roads. Nothing but darkspawn and claustrophobia and death.”

Natalie fingered the papers gently, sliding them around the table, their red wax seals glittering like drops of blood amidst the snow. “I don’t blame you. I’ve obviously never seen them, but I don’t think I would enjoy it either.”

“The Dalish are people of the sky and open air. We don’t belong underground.”

“So, you have to go? You haven’t gotten to visit for very long.” There had still been no word on the matter of another person from earth. Even if there had been, she had a nagging feeling that she would want to stay here in the Free Marches. Over the past weeks of freedom and sunlight, she realized Skyhold was nothing more than a tomb for her painful memories now. She needed to build a life on her own, and she couldn’t keep expecting Hale to provide one for her.

“I didn’t plan on leaving so soon, but things are piling up in my absence and every letter Josephine sends is more stern than the last. I think she and Cullen are losing patience with me. And this situation in Orzammar sounds serious. It needs my personal attention.”

The words stuck in her throat. How could she tell him that she wanted to leave the Inquisition after everything they had done for her? “Hale—“ But she cut herself off as a glint of pearlescent white trimmed in gold caught her eye. It shimmered in the low light in the tent as the paper shifted. Her fingers reached for it, sliding it out from behind the other letters and into view. The envelope was pure white, with a shimmering wax seal depicting an elegantly curling peacock feather. “Oh, who is that one from?”

Hale’s eyes snapped to where her fingers were grasping the envelope. In a flash, he tried to snatch it from her. “It’s nothing.”

Natalie gripped the paper harder, taking in his wide eyes and pink-stained cheeks. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“It’s nothing.” He repeated, pulling on the paper. 

With a grin, Natalie tugged it from his fingers. “If it’s nothing, why are you so embarrassed right now?”

“Natalie, please give me the letter.” Hale sounded defeated.

Taking pity on him, she put the paper in his outstretched palm with an exaggerated huff. “Fine. If you insist.”

“Thank you.” He folded the paper gently and tucked it away inside the pocket of his breeches.

“So I take it that one isn’t official correspondence?”

He glared at her. “That would be correct.”

Natalie held her hands up in supplication. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop prying.” 

Hale was silent, but his eyes stared past her face, hooded and thoughtful. A slight drumming noise filled the tent as he tapped the tips of his fingers against the wooden tabletop. It was an uncomfortable silence, awkward in a way that they had not been around one another in a very long time. What was Hale thinking?

“Is everything alright?” She said, her soft voice breaking the tense quiet.

His fingers stilled and his green eyes met hers. “Can I show you something?”

“Of course, you can.”

“Get up.” He said, rising abruptly enough to cause his stool to catch against the packed earth floor and tip over. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

“Okay?” Natalie rose from her seat, only to have her hand grasped in a firm grip.

Hale pulled her along, barely giving her time to recover her steps before they were off and out of the tent. The members of Clan Lavellan watched with shadowed eyes and creased brows as they passed. Natalie was sure they made quite a sight, Hale striding along with purpose and her trailing like a lost puppy behind him. 

He released her long enough to saddle his horse, only to hoist her up onto its back and pull himself up behind her. Hale pressed his knees into the sides of his mount and they were off, racing through the trees. 

Wind whipped at her hair and stung her eyes as they became a chestnut blur between the trees. It was hard to determine where they were headed with her limited knowledge of the area, only that it was not the way they traveled on the way in. Deeper into the valley they rode, the trees becoming thicker and denser until the leaves above blotted out the sun and the rode in the dim light of a twilight gloaming. 

After what seemed like hours, the rushing roar of a river filled her ears. Hale slowed, guiding the horse between the trees to the banks. A wide expanse of cool, green water opened up before them, white foam frothing at the shoreline. The sight of the rocky riverbed below the water told her the water was shallow, though it darkened and swirled in ominous spirals just upstream.

A sudden spike of fear hit her in her chest, spreading its icy fingers into her veins. It looked so very like the riverbank that she often visited in the Fade that she found herself unable to form a coherent thought. Black fingers seemed to reach for her out of the corners of her eyes and she started, tipping sideways and nearly losing her balance atop the horse. The nightmare had haunted her for the past weeks, ever since that night.

‘Hold on!” Hale called to her.

Before she could answer, they were off and the horse was plunging into the water. Freezing cold spray coated her legs, soaking into the thin leather leggings that covered them. It shocked her, shaking free the creeping memories of nightmare creatures in the Fade. “Hale! Where are we going?” She yelled over the sound of the water.

“You’ll see. We’re almost there!”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes!” Against all odds, Hale seemed to be in better spirits than before they left, even as her mood plummeted with her body temperature.

By the time they forded the river and the horse climbed onto the opposite bank, Natalie was shivering and soaked to the skin. Clinging to Hale’s back, she tried to press herself to him and absorb all his warmth. This was miserable. Whatever he had to show her had better be worth all this. 

The horse plodded along for a few more minutes before rays of sunshine began to break through through the thick foliage. Dust motes floated in the air, casting a hazy filter on the landscape. A carpet of fallen leaves, red and orange and amber, blanketed the ground beneath the horses hooves. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and earth, tinged with fresh, sweet hay. 

They broke through the treeline into a small clearing, at the center stood a cottage straight out of a fairy tale. Made of white stucco and thick, dark beams with large windows gracing either side of the heavy, wooden front door, it sat in slumbering abandonment beneath its roof of thick, sunbleached thatch. Tiny windows peered out of the roofline like drooping eyes, giving the house the effect of a sleepy giant just waking from a long nap. Beyond the house, a rough barn sat behind a decaying paddock fence. 

Hale brought his horse to a stop in front of the house and hopped down, reaching his hand out to help her down. 

“Hale, what is this?” Natalie asked, accepting his hand and sliding down off the horse. Her damp, frozen legs protested as they accepted her weight. 

‘Well—“ Hale looked around the clearing and took a deep breath. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“I mean, of course you can. But I wish you would tell me what is going on, and why we’re here.”

“That’s part of the favor.” He looked sheepish as he tucked his thumbs into the belt at his waist and turned his gaze to the ground around his feet.

“Okay…” Natalie stared at him, waiting for him to get his head out of his ass and get on with it.

“The letter was from Dorian.” The words were a rush of breath out of his lips, the syllables blurring into one another.

“Why would you feel the need to hide a letter from Dorian from me? It’s just Dorian.”

“Because if anyone found it, it could mean consequences for him. Serious ones.” His long legs strode across the dusty earth to the entrance. Reaching out a hand, he pushed the door open and moved into the dim interior of the cottage. She followed him, still not catching what he was trying to lay down. “Dorian went back to Tevinter to change things, to make the Imperium better. He and I—“ Hale stopped, turning to look at her. “We had a lot of long talks over the past couple of years since he joined the Inquisition. I think we both learned a lot from each other. Between myself and Solas sharing our opinions with him, Dorian came to the conclusion that Tevinter could no longer run itself on the backs of the enslaved.”

Natalie snorted. That was not a hard conclusion to come to.

Hale pinned her with a look, a warning not to interrupt. He wasn’t done. “And for my part, I’ve come to see through my time with the Inquisition that the Dalish are not so superior to the city elves. We have spent so long looking down on them that it has divided us, weakened our position against the humans. We have to be willing to put differences aside and work toward the common good of all elves.” His eyes blazed with fervent light. It was clear that this topic had been on his mind, churning and growing. Brewing into a full-on hurricane. “Natalie, I’m telling you this in strictest confidence. It could ruin the Inquisition if this gets out. Dorian could face assassination in Tevinter. I need to know that you understand the importance of this information.”

“Hale, you know I won’t say anything.” She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Tell me what is going on.”

With a shaking breath, Hale turned to face her. “We’re freeing the slaves, Natalie.”

“What?”

“The elven slaves. My people, kept as chattel in the Imperium. We’ve been working on a plan of action for months. Dorian has limited ability to enact change to the actual laws until he is able to take over his father’s seat in the Magisterium, so we have had to come up with something a little more cloak and dagger for now.”

“Isn’t that incredibly risky?” She asked, her mouth gaping open. This was insane. Noble, and a good cause, but insane. If they got caught…

“Yes, it is. That’s why I need your absolute discretion.” Hale grasped her by the shoulders and stared down at her. “And why I need your help.”

“My help? How can I help?”

“We’re planning to smuggle slaves out of Tevinter, a few at a time, taking them away over land or down the rivers to where we can transport them to places where they can live free.” Hale let go and moved to the center of the neglected room. “This place is a safehouse. The river we rode through is a tributary of the Minanter River, which runs all the way to the Amarathine Ocean. What I need is a safe stopping place where people can stay for a few days while they wait for ships to take them to where they are going.” His green eyes blazed with fervor in his pale face, almost glowing in the dim light. “I need someone at this end that I can trust. It has to be you.”

“Me.” She was dumbfounded. Speechless. This all sounded incredibly dangerous. Of  _ course _ she wanted to help, but it seemed such an insurmountable task. 

“Well, I figured you would want to stay here anyway. At least until we can locate this person Leliana sent us after. It would just be a matter of providing shelter and medical care to those who show up.” He paused, scratching the back of his neck. “And lying about it to anyone who asks, of course.”

Natalie felt her steps stagger a bit as she moved to a rickety dining chair. It groaned in protest as her weight hit the disused wood. She couldn’t decide if this whole thing was a blessing or a curse. Just this morning, she was thinking about how she could break the news to Hale that she was not going to accompany him back to Skyhold. Now, he was offering her that very out she wanted. A very dangerous out. An out full of lies. “Do Josephine and the Commander know about this?”

“Yes.” Hale sighed. “It was what she was so upset about before we left Skyhold. I told her about my plan to do this and she was—“ A flinch flickered across his features. “—less than pleased. That was why I fed into the pregnancy rumors with so much enthusiasm. I was trying to cover up her displeasure with me in case anyone had heard her taking my head off in her office. And it was a distraction. Something more scandalous and a lot more fun to gossip about than the actual scandal happening beneath it all. It was also the perfect excuse for you not to return with me.”

God, it made so much sense now. She hadn’t been able to work out what his angle was with that whole mess as they left Skyhold, other than a lark. But it had struck her as over the top, even for Hale. “You could have told me.”

“I couldn’t say anything at Skyhold. Too many ears. This would be a diplomatic nightmare if it got out. Orlais and Fereldan would be angry with us for jeopardizing the tenuous peace with the Imperium. Tevinter would have cause to go after them for harboring us. The Inquisition can hold its own, but we cant fight a war on three fronts. I even offered to step down as Inquisitor, but Josephine and Cullen refused to allow it.”

“Hale, we’ve been here for three weeks. And we were on the road for two before that. You had plenty of opportunity before now.”

“I needed to make sure the plans were in place before I brought you in, for your own safety.”

Natalie sighed, digging her fingers into her thick curls and dragging her nails across her scalp. “And who does this place belong to? Won’t they be implicated in all this?”

“You.”

Her head snapped up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Hale shrugged. “You’ve been working for the Inquisition for two years, Natalie. Without pay, I might add. It’s only right that we even the score.”

It was almost sure that she was doing a spot on impression of a fish at that particular moment.

“And don’t worry, Varric did a little creative accounting. This place is in your name, free and clear, with no ties to me or the Inquisition. Even if you don’t want to help, it’s yours.”

“Varric is in on this too?” She could feel the heat beginning to pool in the back of her eye sockets. It had been months since she cried. 

Hale nodded. “Sort of. He’s got a couple friends who are heavily invested in seeing the end of the slave trade. They’re going to do a lot of the hands on stuff in the middle and Varric is going to oversee the southern route through Kirkwall and into Fereldan. You may remember one of them.” Hale gave her a brittle smile.

“Hawke? You’re talking about Hawke, right?”

Another nod. “So, what do you think?” His eyes were open and pleading as he stared at her, waiting for her answer. She could see the deep well of emotion swirling in them. 

This meant a lot to him. Hell, she  _ wanted _ to help. Both parts of her were screaming at her to say yes. “Okay.” She said in a soft voice. “Okay. Yes, I will help.” She continued, more confident this time.

Hale’s expression brightened. “You will?”

“I will.”

With a cry, Hale almost flew across the room to embrace her. Her ribs creaked in protest as he squeezed the air from her lungs. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Okay, easy there, tiger. I can’t breathe.” She squeaked, her voice thin and high.

Hale laughed and released her. “Sorry. Obviously, we can continue to send you a stipend to live on—“

“No.” She interrupted him. There was no way she was going to be reliant on him any longer. “I have skills of my own. I can support myself.”

Confusion bloomed across his features as his eyebrows knitted together. “But it will be so much easier—“

“Hale, if I’m going to do this, I am going to do it on my own terms.” Natalie braced her hands against her hips. “I’m a healer, and I had a job and made my own living for a long time before I ended up here. If you can do me a favor and send my things from Skyhold, I should be able to set myself up here. I can’t keep taking advantage of our friendship.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line, but he nodded, a short, jerking movement. “You’re not taking advantage of anything, but I understand. I will write to Josephine and have your things readied for shipment.” He started for the door but stopped himself short and looked over his shoulder at her. “There is one more thing.”

A sharp laugh escaped her lips. “More?”

He huffed ruefully. “Varric has another friend, someone he knew in Kirkwall, that needs a place to stay. He can’t be near Kirkwall and he’s been roaming from place to place for a while. We thought that since this is fairly remote that—“

“Fine.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.” 

Natalie sighed. “I didn’t need to. It’s fine. I imagine the help around here would be welcome.” Being an apartment dweller in her earth life, she knew next to nothing about home maintenance. Extra hands were not something she could afford to scoff at. She thought of the dusty house and the falling down fence. Lord knows what the barn looked like. This place was a disaster. 

A brilliant smile broke across his face. “I knew I could count on you.”

“You owe me.” She teased.

The smile faded and a serious look shuttered down Hale’s face. “I do. I really do owe you. For more than you know.”

That pesky stinging feeling pricked at her eyes again. “I hope you know that I feel the same way.”

“I know. I love you, Natalie.” His smile was like sunshine, bringing summer to his wintery countenance.

A warmth blossomed deep in her chest as tears pooled in her eyes. “I love you too, Hale.”

Hale held out his hand, beckoning to her. “Come on, we should get back to the encampment. We have letters to write.”

She placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean.... in my defense, this isn't where I was going with this trip to the Free Marches. I just can't say no to Hale., and now it's a whole thing. Thanks, dude.


	45. Lean On Me

“Ouch! Fuck!” Natalie swore as she waved her hand in the air, trying to shake off the sharp pain in the side of her palm. Scrunching her nose, another string of curse words flowed from her mouth as she prodded at the splinter that had dug itself deep into her skin. It stung, biting into her hand with no remorse. “Fucking splinters.”

Natalie rose from her place on the rough floor of her newly acquired cottage. For days, she had been scrubbing and sweeping and brushing away cobwebs, meeting more than a few disgruntled spiders in the process. Everything was filthy. Everything was neglected. It was going to take weeks to get it all in order.

Her skirt was damp where her knees met the fresh scrubbed floor, it slapped with unpleasant weight against her legs as she crossed to the door. In the absence of lanterns or candles, the cottage was still dim as a cave in the daylight. She needed a better view in order to get this blasted piece of wood out of her hand.

In the light, she could see the dark line beneath her dirty palm. Biting her lip, she scraped at it with her fingernails, trying to catch the end of the tiny sliver. It stung but remained unmoved, throbbing. “My kingdom for some goddamn tweezers right about now.”

Sometimes it still frustrated her how _inconvenient_ it was living here, even after two years. A lifetime of things at her fingertips had spoiled her. Tweezers, coffee, Clorox wipes! What she wouldn’t give for some Clorox wipes right now. Hell, maybe a belt sander and some latex paint to take the rough edges off of literally everything inside her abandoned home. Or a flamethrower. That would probably be an improvement too. When she moved into her last apartment, it had been delivery pizza and a nice IPA sitting on her clean floor watching YouTube videos on her phone while she waited for the WiFi to get installed. This move was so far from that it was laughable.

Granted, she was not yet at the point where she could actually sleep in the cottage, but she was getting closer to the barest state of cleanliness necessary to not have regular allergy attacks from the dust and dirt. Hale had been most accommodating in showing her the way some days ago, and she was making the trip with Daisy daily. Natalie could not see hauling him out here each time. The cottage was removed from any of the Dalish encampments but still just outside the confines of their valley, and the path was fairly secure. Over and over, Natalie had assured Hale that she was perfectly capable of blasting someone if they got too near her. She was, after all, still a mage.

With further obscenities spilling from her mouth, she gripped the splinter with the tips of her nails and managed to wiggle it out. “Ha!”

“Well, that is certainly colorful language. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” A female voice called.

“Shit!” Natalie yelled, her heart leaping into her throat. She whirled, trying to find the source of the voice.

A tall, dark-haired woman strode from the trees, her blue eyes glittering with mirth. “See? You’re a regular poet.”

“Hawke!” Natalie was glad to see her. After Adamant, Hawke had shown no hesitation in bouncing off to god-knows-where. There was no chance to even say goodbye.

“It’s good to see you survived all the insanity.”

“You too.” Natalie grinned. “And it has been insane, that’s for sure.”

“Never a dull moment with me around.” Hale’s white head glinted in the sunlight as he rounded the path from the river behind Hawke.

Her eyes rolled back into her head. He was right, but like he she was going to give him the satisfaction. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“This one? Flatter himself? How dare you slander his good name.” Hawke’s grin widened as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Quite right, Hawke.” Hale strode across the clearing and dropped an arm over Natalie’s shoulders. “How are you today, friend? You look like you took a dunk in the river and then rolled in the dirt.”

The heat rose in her cheeks as she found herself very aware of what she must look like right now. Damp, dirt-streaked clothing. Frizzy hair that was in all likelihood sticking out in every direction from her braid. She could feel the sweat and grime gathering in the folds of her skin. Oh yes, she was most certainly a mess. “Peachy, friend. Just scrubbing about ten years’ worth of grime from the living room floor, killing spiders, wishing I could burn it down and start over. The usual.” Natalie peered up at him, then across at Hawke. “Why are you two here?”

Hale whistled idly and grinned at Hawke. “We brought you a surprise.”

Natalie snorted. Hale’s surprises were often less than pleasant. “Well, it’s just my lucky day then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it definitely is.” At Hawke’s words, the rumble of cart wheels on the bumpy path up from the river interrupted their conversation.

From between the trees, the outline of a cart jostled into view. Two figures sat atop the driver’s seat, the driver a striking elven man in heavy armor with white hair to match Hale’s, the other mostly obscured by a dark, heavy cloak. The air fairly crackled around the pair as they sat on opposite sides of the bench seat, as far from each other as possible. “Hale, what is all this?”

Hale shook her lightly, her shoulder bumping into his armpit as he did. “Just some things to get you started, until your belongings arrive from Skyhold.”

“And _that_ — “ Hawke indicated the two men with a lazy hand, “—is today’s entertainment.”

Natalie’s brows drew together as she took in the obvious animosity with which the pale-haired elf was glaring at the cloaked figure beside him. “Ah, I can see that. I take it they are not friends?”

Hawke laughed, her palm slapping against her leg. “Not at all. Fenris would happily do away with him and dump his body in the river, I think, but he knows it would upset me.”

 _Fenris_. She recognized that name from Varric’s book, and the stories he told of his adventures in Kirkwall. Suddenly grateful that she had taken the time to read it in Haven, Natalie felt as dumbstruck as she had been when she met Hawke. It felt like meeting a character from a novel in the flesh. The lyrium tattoos she had read about glinted a faint blue against his tawny skin. It was all fascinating and horrifying.

Then in dawned on her that these must be Varric’s friends who were meant to be their boots on the ground in this Thedosian Underground Railroad of theirs. Given what she knew of Fenris’ past, it made complete sense. Natalie couldn’t imagine living in a world where she had to just accept that horrible things had happened to her and she could do nothing about it.

The cart came to a shuddering stop in front of the house. She could see the lumps of several crates beneath an oiled cloth in the bed. Fenris was quick to jump down from his perch as if the wagon seat was hot lava, his armor emitting a metallic clatter as his feet hit the ground. “I’m still not sure how you convinced me that it had to be my job to drive the cart with that _mage_.” He barked, his voice a low rumble that resonated in her ears.

Hawke gave him a long-suffering look. “Because, the Inquisitor and I were talking business. And I just know you were dying to catch up with our friend there after all this time apart.”

Natalie half expected Hawke to drop dead based purely on the look Fenris was giving her in that moment. He stalked to her and leaned in, speaking in low tones that Natalie could not decipher from where she stood, but she could guess what was happening from the way Hawke’s eyes lit up. She reached up and ran a knuckle down Fenris’ cheek with a fond smile. “I will hold you to that, my love.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.” His answer was gruff, but tinged with the unmistakable undertones of affection for the dark-haired woman at his side.

From behind them, a dark shape approached. The figure was tall and slim, walking with a halting gait as if his joints were made of rusting iron. He pulled the dark hood from his head, revealing a careworn face with sunken cheeks covered in what appeared to be at least a week's worth of stubble. A face that might have been handsome once, before life had sucked the joy from it. His light brown eyes were shadowed and surrounded by a halo of fine lines. Long, sandy blonde hair streaked with gray at the temples was pulled away from his face into a ponytail at his nape. Natalie got the distinct impression of a stray alley cat from him, starving and cornered but with an underlying air of lonely weariness. She was tempted to warm some milk and give him a nice scratch behind the ears to cheer him up.

Hale was the first to notice him. He beckoned their final companion over, leaning an elbow on Natalie’s shoulder. “This is the friend I mentioned, the one who needs a place to stay for the time being. Natalie, this is Anders. Anders, Natalie.”

Now _that_ was also a name she recognized. Bless Varric and his arrogant insistence that she read his books. She would have to remember to thank him the next time she saw him.

Why on earth was Hale suggesting someone like this come stay with her? Varric’s book, and his stories, had painted Anders as something of a zealot, the instigator of the mage-Templar rebellion, and little better than a terrorist in her eyes based on his destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry. Her spine stiffened, an action he undoubtedly noticed. His eyes bore into her, narrowing as they studied her face. “Welcome, Anders.” She managed, unable to prevent herself from feeling wary of him.

“Thank you for having me, Natalie.” His voice matched his exterior, pleasant but with a hint of a gritty rasp underneath.

Tense moments passed, the air thick enough to split with a blade. How did Hale think this was a good idea?

 _Whoa, slow your roll, woman._ She told herself. The only information she had on this situation was from Varric’s book, so maybe a snap judgement was unfair. But then again, Varric had been present for all of it so— “Hale, can I talk to you real quick?” Natalie pasted a smile on her face, sure that she was being transparent as glass but not having any inclination to care.

“Sure, darling, whatever you need.” Hale’s tone was light, but his eyes were narrowed.

“Can someone tell me where to put these crates so that we can be done with it?” Fenris’ growl interrupted their departure.

“I’ll just be a minute, and then we can both help. You don’t have to do it yourself.”

With a stretched smile, Natalie guided Hale away with a firm hand on his forearm. Pulling him just around the corner of the cottage, she rounded on him. “That’s who you want to live here?” She hissed, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “You want me to house the person who blew up Kirkwall?”

Hale rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure if you would know who he was.”

“Of course I do. I’ve read Varric’s book and I have a brain, don’t I? I can’t imagine Hawke has more than one friend named Anders. Don’t you think it’s dangerous enough for me to be doing what we are doing here without also abetting a fugitive on top of it?”

“Natalie, he knows how to keep out of sight. He can’t show his face anywhere where he could betray us without his life being forfeit. He’s also a skilled spirit healer _and_ a Grey Warden. He can help you.”

“Hale, he’s a _terrorist_. He blew up a building and murdered innocent people!”

His mouth thinned into a stark line. “And he’s had years to face the consequences of those actions and to realize his mistakes. Hawke trusts him, which is enough for me to trust him.”

Natalie drew in a shaking breath. She wanted to accept his assurances, she really did, but she couldn’t imagine taking this as lightly as Hale was at this moment. She had seen the aftermath of such an act in her own life. It was brutal and horrible, spreading fear and pain and death in expanding ripples for years after the dust of the explosion settled. Could she bring herself to separate the act itself from the person behind it?

“Look—“ Hale gripped her shoulders and looked down at her, “—if you’re really uncomfortable with this, we can find another way. I can find another place for him to go. I just thought this would work out well, and you wouldn’t have to be out here all alone.”

But she believed that people could change, that humans were fundamentally good. Who was she to deny someone with a desire for repentance the redemption they sought? Did he even want that? Was he even sorry for what he had done? The desire to extend a helping hand warred with the feelings of fear and horror at the crimes Anders committed within her. With a sigh, she tried to push her doubts aside. She had promised Hale she would do this for him, told him this was alright. He was so quick to do things for her that this seemed a small thing to do in return.

“It’s fine. He can stay.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. “Are you certain?”

Natalie nodded. “I already told you I would let him.” She still felt the gut-churning clench of uncertainty at her center, but she would keep her word.

He looked skeptical, but returned her nod with one of his own. “If you insist. I meant what I said though, if this ever becomes a problem for you, just tell me or Hawke and we can find another solution.”

“I will.” With a shaky hand, she patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go help with that wagon.”

“Hold on, there is one more thing.”

“Oh, great. What now?”

“I’m leaving.” Hale’s face shuttered. “And by that, I mean tonight.”

“Tonight?” A flutter of alarm stirred in her breast.

Hale looked sheepish. “I received an urgent message from Cullen this morning. They need me back immediately. The situation with the Avvar has escalated and I have to deal with it personally. I’m supposed to be on a boat to Highever at first light. I’m going to take Cole with me.”

“You’re taking Cole, too?” She wasn’t sure why she assumed the spirit boy would stay here with her, but hearing that he wasn’t heightened her feeling of uneasiness.

Hale sighed. “With so many of the others gone, I need his help. Plus, with his penchant for truth telling, I thought it might be safer for him not to know what we’re up to. I wish I could leave him with you. My sister’s promised to come look in on you, and you know where the camp is. Deshanna won’t deny you aid if you ask for it. Hawke promised to show you the way to Wycome, so you can come and go as you please.”

The reality of her being on her own for the first time since her arrival in Thedas came crashing around her. All of a sudden, her throat constricted and her breaths came shallow. This is what she wanted. This is what she asked for. Independence. It was fine. It was all going to be fine. “Okay. Well, I’m going to miss you.”

His answering smile was soft. “I’ll miss you too. But hey, I’ll try and make my way back as soon as I have all this mess sorted out down South.”

“You have responsibilities, Hale. You just take care of that you need to. Don’t worry about me.”

His face scrunched.  “Yes, but I don't _want_ responsibilities.”

“Too bad, kid. They’re already yours.”

“Very well then.” He let out a very long sigh, filled with all his distaste. “Let’s actually go help with the wagons now. They’ll get it done so much faster with my superior strength.” Hale looped an arm around her shoulders as they walked back around the corner.

With a snort, she slapping him on the chest. “Oh yeah, a regular beast you are.” The muscles in her cheeks twitched as she tried to stop herself from smiling.

“Of course I am.” His chest puffed out. “I don’t know why you doubt me.”

The trio by the wagon came back into view. Fenris and Hawke stood idly beside each other, Hawke at ease while Fenris had a distinct expression of annoyance. Anders leaned against the wagon a short ways away, his eyes following the two of them as they rounded the cottage. His face looked as wary as her insides felt. Her mouth curled into a small smile and she nodded at him. Anders’ face eased, the lines around his eyes and mouth smoothing just the tiniest bit.

“Now that you all are done having a chat, can we unload these crates?” Fenris was the first to break the silence, still impatient to be done with his task. He seemed somewhat ill at ease and was darting looks of pure malice at the blonde mage. It was as obvious as the sun in the sky that there was no love lost there.

“Sure. We can put them just inside the door, just watch for wet spots. I was scrubbing the floor when you arrived.” Natalie replied.

In the end, they made short work of the wagon. There were more of them than she originally thought, far more than necessary. It seemed Hale had gone a little overboard, even though she had made it clear she wanted to make a go of it on her own. She suspected she would be grateful for his largess before it was all said and done, not that she would tell him so.

Before she had much time to process the rapid changes in her life situation, the wagon was empty and Hawke and Fenris were seated and waiting for Hale to climb aboard so that they could leave. Hawke gave her a map and marked the way to Wycome that she could follow. The route seemed pretty straightforward.

Now all that remained was to say goodbye to Hale.

She felt the telltale heat in the back of her eyes as she hugged him, but she swallowed it down. It would be a cold day in hell before she allowed three relative strangers to see her break down. That Natalie was gone. Hale’s long hands cupped her head as she rested her cheek on his chest, just over his heart.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” He said, his voice vibrating against her cheek.

“I will. Don’t go get yourself killed in the Deep Roads. I really don’t want to have to go down there and kill you a second time.”

Hale snorted. “I won’t. Have a little faith.” Releasing her, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and stepped away. “If you need anything, and I mean _anything_ , send me a message. Or you can send one straight to Josephine. She knows what is going on and will be able to find me.”

Nodding, she willed herself not to cry. After Solas’ disappearance, her heart had been just… numb. There had been no tears, only a hollow emptiness that seemed to swallow her whole. But she wanted to cry over Hale. She really wanted to cry over Hale. _No._ “I will, I promise.”

“Take care of yourself. I will see you soon.”

He embraced her one last time before climbing into the bed of the wagon. Natalie watched as it rumbled back into the trees, taking her best friend with it. His white hair glinted in the sun as he waved, just before they disappeared into the trees and out of sight.

For long minutes, she could only stare at the empty gap where the path led back down to the river. In her muddled mind, she had the inkling that maybe she could will them to come back if she only stared long enough.

“Are you well?” The raspy voice came from behind her, startling her.

Natalie turned her head, meeting his gaze. She had almost forgotten he was here. Feeling a little foolish, she tilted her head and turned back toward the cottage. “I’ll be fine.” Steeling her nerves, she rubbed her hands together and marched toward the front door with purpose. “Seems like we have a lot of unpacking to do. Should probably get to it.”

He nodded, saying nothing but following her anyway. From the creases between his brows, she could tell that Anders didn’t know what to make of her. That made two of them. They would have to figure it out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 150,000 words, guys! 
> 
> HOLY. SHIT.


	46. Galileo

They circled each other like gladiators that first night, both wary and poised to defend themselves if the other appeared threatening. The cottage was not large, but it was a comfortable size, a central main room with one bedroom on the lower floor off the kitchen and a loft under the eaves with another. There was a small bathing room located off the back with easy access to the well. Anders didn’t argue when she pulled her packs up the stairs into the upper floor, figuring taking those rooms for herself would give her more privacy, and a place to escape.

The crates were opened in silence, clean bedrolls laid out over the dingy mattresses, and Natalie threw together a quick dinner of bean soup over the disused cooking fire. She had no meat to cook with and this arrangement was a far cry from access to a modern kitchen, but she managed to pull together a passable soup all the same. All of this happened while the two of them watched each other from the corners of their eyes and said nothing. It was tense, almost unbearably so. Natalie could feel it simmering in the muscles of her neck and shoulders.

She wasn’t made to live like this, with this uncomfortable creeping feeling under her skin. He seemed content to allow their stalemate to continue, but she felt compelled to make the first move.

As she set the bowl of steaming soup in front of him, she decided it would be her peace offering. “I apologize that it’s not more. I should be able to do better once things are more settled.”

He stared at the bowl, his expression closed off. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to cook for me.”

“Who else is going to eat all of this soup with me then? Don’t be silly.” She scoffed, pressing a spoon she had scrounged from one of the crates into his hands.

Soft brown eyes studied her from beneath his eyebrows, huge and sad. Natalie found herself irritated at the sight of them. “I am happy to move my things into the loft in the barn, if you would like.”

“Oh hush.” She couldn't stop herself from snapping.  “I’m not going to make you sleep in the barn, so just stop right there.”

His eyes dropped to the steaming bowl. Anders says motionless for far longer than she thought strictly necessary. She could tell he was weighing his words carefully when he finally replied to her. “How much do you know about me?”

She considered his question, trying to decide how best to answer. “Well, I’ve read _Tale of the Champion_ , and I lived in the same castle as Varric for almost two years. So, I’d say I know enough.”

Anders expelled a long breath. “I was half hoping you were going to say that you didn’t know who I was, but I guess that was too much to ask for after your reaction outside earlier.”

“I, uhh—“ Natalie could feel heat spread across her cheeks. “I could’ve handled that better. They didn’t tell me who was coming, only that you were a friend of Hawke’s. It took me by surprise.”

“And the truth didn’t please you.” A statement, not a question.

“Oh, wow. So we’re doing this right now, huh? Okay. I’m game to get this out of the way, I guess.” Natalie placed her bowl of soup on the table and sat down in the chair opposite him. Her mind was weary, ready to be done with conversation before it had a chance to start. “No, I wasn’t pleased. I’m still not. I—“

“I understand.” He interrupted. “I do.”

“Let me finish.” She snapped, giving him a pointed glare. When it seemed that his mouth was firmly shut, she continued. “I can’t say that I will ever agree with or even understand why you chose to do what you did, but I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that you don’t have any further plots to blow anything up. Hale said he trusts you and I trust _him_ with my life, but if you start up with any more plans to dispense any more ‘justice’, you’ll do it out of this house and away from me.”

The click of his teeth was loud in the quiet room as his jaw worked up and down, trying to form the words he wanted to speak. In the end, it seemed they would not come. “I can respect that.” He said, quietly.

“I’m not saying I dislike you or that you’re not welcome here. I will reserve judgement on whether I like you or not until I know you better. But I don’t want to walk on eggshells in my own home. So let’s agree to a truce, for now.”

Anders nodded, his lined face twisting into a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Great. Now that we have an understanding, eat your soup. It’s gross once it gets cold.”

And that, she thought, was that.

* * *

It wasn’t.

Anders continued to watch her like she was a ticking bomb until she thought she would scream at him. He seemed to be holding his breath all the time, waiting for her to make a move. Like he was expecting her to change her mind and kick him out at any moment. Her statement about not wanting to walk on eggshells in her own home was the truth, but he was giving her the opposite of that.

So she avoided him. Well, as much as she could with the two of them sharing the small house. At least it seemed that Anders was a somewhat proficient hunter. She guessed it must be a legacy of the last few years living rough as a fugitive. Some skills you just learned by necessity. He spent a good amount of time constructing snares and setting them around the cottage, which kept him well out of her hair and gave her a break.

After a week of clenching her jaw in frustration, she had saddled Daisy and made the hour long trek into Wycome one morning, just to get a day away from the skin-crawling tension in the house. The countryside was calmer and browner than when they arrived, the cool air cutting through her light woolen cloak. It seemed Winter had finally made its way from Fereldan and into the Free Marches.

Her trek took her to the Wycome Chantry first, and then to the storefront of their aging apothecary when the sisters informed her they could not employ her without her first pledging her life to the Maker.

Ha. As if that was going to happen.

Upon finding that the elderly man’s apprentice had eloped with her sweetheart to parts unknown the preceding summer, she struck a deal with him to take over brewing his more common medicinals. His hands were in the early stages of arthritis and he was grateful to be able to subcontract out his high-volume items. Natalie left his shop with a packet of recipes, enough ingredients to make him some test vials so he could judge her skill at it before he set their arrangement in stone, and a promise to return the following week.

Overall, it was a productive day. She hummed merrily to herself on her long way home with hope burning bright in her chest. If she could please the apothecary, he promised to spread the word out about her to the neighboring farming communities. Perhaps there would be enough of a practice to keep them afloat. For the first time since arriving in Thedas, she felt like _her_ again. Strong. Independent. Able to live life on her own terms. Accomplishing her own goals, instead of someone else’s.

The next morning, she was busy at work making a list of seeds she would need for the medicinal beds she would plant in the spring when the hard thwack of an axe split her concentration. It startled her, ringing in her ears. Each time she tried to turn her attention back to her notes, another crack would make her jump and ruin her train of thought. Tossing the quill down with a sigh of annoyance, she padded to the front window to see what the hell her housemate had gotten up to.

Apparently, Anders was under the impression that they were in need of firewood. He was probably right. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his face and soaked into his tunic as he swung the axe and grunted. The axe hit the log and stuck fast, unbalancing him as the handle slipped from his grip. Squinting, she tilted her head and watched the scene unfold with a hand over her mouth, hiding the telltale grin.

With a curse, he kicked over the log and planted his booted foot against it, yanking on the axe with both arms. He glared at the offensive wood as the axe head came free, causing him to stumble backward.

He really was bad at this.

Anders was still chopping away and cursing a blue streak as she padded past the windows of the house, seemingly unaware of her presence. He looked so miserable that she felt a surge of pity for the mage. His sweat-soaked shirt stuck in patches to a painfully thin body, as if he never had enough to eat. Fetching a cup from her newly scrubbed cabinets, she poured cool water from the pitcher on the table.

Natalie stood outside and watched him struggle with the axe for several more minutes before he noticed her. With a huff, he laid down the axe and stared at her, his chest rising rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

“I think the point is to split the wood, not just kick it around the yard.” She called, needling him.

“You’re welcome to come and try to do better.” He leaned against the handle, glaring at her as he mopped his brow with the back of his hand. It was surprising to hear him speak so, after so many days of awkward silence. Honestly, it was refreshing.

“Oh no. You seem to have it under control.” Natalie chuckled as she descended the stairs and held out the cup like an olive branch. “I thought you looked like you could use a drink.”

His eyes were wary in his red, sweating face as he took it from her and stared into the cup without drinking. “Thank you.”

“It’s just water. It’s not going to bite.”

With a sheepish huff, he darted a look at her and took a long drink. He appeared slightly less red in the face once he was through and he handed the cup back to her with a nod and a slight smile curving the corner of his mouth. “That was exactly what I needed. You have my thanks.”

“No problem.” She clutched the cup to her chest, feeling a distinct sense of awkwardness. He was just looking at her with an odd expression, as if he were wishing she would go away but also terrified that she would. “Ah, thanks for chopping the wood, by the way. I don’t think I would do so well with that axe, myself.”

His hand wiped across his brow as his face broke into a full smile. “I don’t think I’m accomplishing very much, to be honest. I can’t say I ever had much occasion to split firewood in the Circle, or even after I escaped. I admit I normally just forage wood.”

“I wonder if I could just mind blast the wood apart.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she mulled the idea over. “But I guess then you would just end up with splinters instead of logs.”

His head snapped up to really look at her then, his eyes widened and his mouth open.

“What?” Why was he looking at her like that?

“You’re a mage?”

Natalie shrugged. “They didn’t tell you that?”

“They told me very little about you, to be completely honest. Just that we share an interest in healing, and Hawke trusted you not to turn me over to what’s left of the Templars. I guess it didn’t occur to me after I met you, seeing as you don’t carry a staff and I have yet to see you use any magic. I assumed you were an apothecary, rather than a mage.”

“Trust those two to leave us both in the dark.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I have a staff, I guess I just don’t like to carry it. It feels strange to, considering I spent most of my life not needing one.”

“Why would you not need one?” He was studying her with a renewed interest now.

She feLt a strange heat crawl up her chest and into her face. There was no way she was going to tell this relative stranger that she was from a land beyond the Fade, or that there was a strong possibility that she may be a spirit possessed by a human spirit. Or anything really. “I, uh, manifested my skills much later in life. After the Breach.”

“You manifested magical abilities after the Breach.” He repeated in a flat voice. It was obvious that he didn’t believe her.

“When I mind blasted a seven foot Qunari mercenary across the training grounds at Haven.”

He shook his head, the look of pure confusion on his face almost comical. “How old are you?”

With a gasp of mock outrage, she pressed a hand to her throat. “Anders, how dare you. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” If it had been Hale, he would have told her she was no lady and it didn’t count. Anders just stared at her, not willing to be amused by her teasing. _Okay…_ “I’m thirty one.” She finished lamely.

“So, you’re saying you manifested mage abilities at twenty nine?”

His tone was starting to get under her skin. Like she gave a shit if he believed her or not, but he had no right to insinuate that she was lying to him. She wasn’t. She was omitting. Totally different. Her spine snapped straight as her faced him at her full, yet meager, height and glared up at him. If you looked past his hunching posture, he had upwards of half a foot on her in the height department. Not that height had ever stopped her from facing off against someone. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me if you believe it or not, that’s what happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than be called a liar.” Whirling around, she stalked off toward the door.

“Natalie!” The words came only moments before the tug on her arm as his fingers wrapped around it. Anders pulled her to a stop. There was a tense moment as her eyes took in the fingers grasping her arm. They traveled, narrowed and spitting burning acid, to his face. Anders sputtered and released her. “I’m sorry. It was inappropriate of me to grab you. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” The words fell like shards of ice between them as they stood at odds across from each other, each of them straight and square like stone sentinels.

He was the first to break, shoulders slumping as he expelled a breath. “I wasn’t calling you a liar—“ But the rest of the words never made it past his lips. The rumbling of a cart echoed through the trees, sending a jolt of alarm through Natalie’s chest.

“Anders, get in the house.” She said, her voice calm but firm. Their argument all but forgotten in an instant. His safety was entrusted to her. She would not be the reason he got himself captured.

“Natalie—“

“NOW!” She snapped, hearing the rattle of wooden wheels against the rocky earth growing louder. Behind her, she heard the sound of his boots stomp across the threshold and into the house.

The whinny of horse joined the crunch and rattle as she gathered the Fade into her fingertips, it poured like a river into her waiting hands. Again, she was struck by how easy it was. She could feel it dancing around her skin, ready to leap to her command.

A slight figure in moss green and nut brown leathers rounded the path, white hair shining from its multitude of braids. For a single moment, her heart pounded in her throat. _Hale._ But the form was too short, much curvier than his own lanky figure.

As the woman looked up, Natalie realized who it was and released the energy in her hands. “Viera! Welcome.”

Viera nodded to her, walking with purposeful steps through the clearing. More elves followed, a squad of hunters flanking a large wooden wagon driven by human soldiers in familiar green and bronze uniforms. Inquisition soldiers. A second, smaller cart followed with more soldiers on horseback.

Hale’s sister stopped in front of her. “These men approached the forest, said they were sent here by Haleir for you. We would not allow them to pass through the valley without escort.”

“I would guess these are my things from Skyhold. Ma serannas. Thank you for escorting them, Viera.”

Viera nodded curtly, standing at attention with her hunters around her. “We will wait until they conclude their business and escort them back out to the plains.” Her pale eyes watched the human soldiers with thinly veiled suspicion.

Natalie surveyed the two laden vehicles, feeling dazed and the volume of things within. Surely this wasn’t what had occupied her small room back in Skyhold. There was no way her meager belongings would fill two carts. As she scanned the pile of crates and boxes, her gaze caught on a familiar figure with a face full of blue markings grinning down from the back of a huge roan stallion.

“Knight-Captain Rylen! When did they let you leave the Western Approach?” She said his name and title louder than was strictly necessary, hoping Anders could hear them and hide himself properly within the cottage.

His thick, rolling accent was exactly the same as she remembered it. “I’m headed home to Starkhaven for a bit of leave! Lady Montilyet asked me if I wouldn’t mind a quick stop here first.” Rylen’s smile was as charming as ever as he climbed down from his mount. “I couldn’t say no to doing a favor for the lovely lass who saved my life.”

Natalie felt a furious blush sweep across her face. “Oh stop.”

“Now, where would you like all of this? Just lead the way and I will have the boys start unloading.”

All at once, she felt a moment of panic. Anders was in the house. She couldn’t let a bunch of soldiers and a Templar Knight-Captain in with him. “Hold on out here for just one minute while I make sure I have room, and I’ll be right back to you with that. Okay?”

At his nod, she hurried into the cottage. Looking around, she found Anders standing to the right of one of the big front windows with his back to the wall, peering out at Rylen with thinly veiled hatred. His staff was clutched in his hand, already crackling with the promise of destructive magic.

“Anders.” She hissed as softly as she could manage. “Please, for the love of god, go hide in your room until they are gone. I’m not in any danger.” When he hesitated, she continued. “Rylen is a friend, but also a Templar and one of the chain of command that helped clean up Kirkwall after your fireworks show. It would go very badly for us both if he found you here.”

His brown eyes were hard as he turned his head to look at her, saying nothing. Warring emotions played across those eyes, skepticism, anger, all over an undercurrent of fear.

“Please? They’re just delivering my things from Skyhold. I’ll get rid of them.”

With a reluctant nod, he moved away from the wall and disappeared into the adjoining room, shutting the door behind him.

Someone must have been smiling on her, because she managed to get all of the boxes from the wagon unloaded into the main room and the soldiers well on their way without incident after only an hour. Every second they were in the house, she expected someone to raise an alarm about the arsonist apostate hiding in her spare room. It left her shoulder muscles clenched in knots and her stomach rolling in sick waves.

Viera seemed keen to get them away from the Dalish encampment as expediently as possible, so she kept barking orders like a drill sergeant until the humans loaded themselves back onto their horses and into the larger wagon. To her surprise, Rylen told her that the smaller cart and its draft horse was hers to keep. He bid her farewell with a soft kiss on the back of her hand as he mounted his horse.

At last, the wagon rolled from view, ushered along at a grueling pace by Hale’s formidable sister, and she felt like she could breathe again. Racing back into the house, she found Anders already standing near the tiny kitchen table, his mouth open as he looked over the veritable mountain of boxes that was now occupying nearly a full half of the main room.

“How big were your rooms at Skyhold?” He asked incredulously.

She snorted in disbelief. “Not this big. I don’t know what Hale did, but I have a feeling he ignored my request that the Inquisition not subsidize my living here.”

“I’ll say.”

“I should have had them put them in the barn. I will have to scale them just to get up the stairs tonight.”

“I guess we should start unpacking then.”

With a groan, she nodded. “You’re probably right.” She began to walk away when she realized that the two of them were having an actual _normal_ conversation. “Wait, are we talking like regular people right now?”

“I guess we are.” Anders shrugged. “I wanted to say thank you.”  
  
Natalie cocked her head to one side. “For?”   
  
“For not turning me over to that Templar.” His voice held a distinct edge when he said the word.   
  
“Why would I do that?”   
  
He tucked his hands into the pockets in his pants and shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first person to resent me for what happened in Kirkwall. You could have saved yourself some trouble by letting him have me. There is a reason why I have been hiding in the mountains like a savage for years and not fighting alongside the other mages.”   
  
“Anders, I hope you know that I would never do that. When I said you were welcome here, I meant it.” She sighed, seating herself on top of the nearest crate. “I didn’t grow up in a Circle, but I lived and worked beside the rebel mages in Skyhold and heard plenty of stories about the things that happened in them. I don’t pretend to know what you have been through in your life to bring you to the point where you felt that blowing up a Chantry was your only course of action, but—” His face was strained as he watched her struggle to find the words, the muscles in his shoulders like stone. How did she have any place to speak to him about any of this? “—I guess what I am trying to say is that redemption is available to those who seek it.”   
  
“And you do not think that I am beyond that? You would not be the first to say so.” Anders was staring at her with a bonfire reflecting in his eyes. A demand for her to answer and prove all of his preconceived notions about her right.   
  
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “How am I qualified to say anyone is beyond it? Don’t you think that’s your choice?”   
  
“And what if I don’t want it?”   
  
“Well, I guess that’s your choice too.”   
  
She could see him absorbing her words in the way his gaze dropped and lingered on the floor between their feet, the way his shoulders stayed high up around his ears. After a moment, he nodded and raised his eyes to look at her. “Why don’t we start unpacking those boxes now?”   


“Sure. Let’s see what gifts Hale left for us.” With a grin, she bounced from her seat and turned to pull the lid from the one she had perched upon. It came away with little fanfare, releasing a small puff of dust into the air.

Oiled cloth inside blocked its contents from view. Batting the fabric away, she gaped. It was filled to the brim with books. _Why would Hale ship me books?_ Grasping the nearest one, she felt her heart sink into her stomach as she read the spine.

_Elvehan Diis Falsis: Triew Metod Dracas_

With her stomach churning, she looked back down into the crate to see a familiar leather bound journal resting atop the other volumes. With a jolt, she dropped the book back into the crate and slammed the lid back down, catching the oil cloth between the boards. She could feel her pulse beating a rapid tattoo in her neck. That was a rude awakening she had not been prepared for.

She had forgotten. Forgotten the boxes of his things she had cleared from the rotunda and packed away in the foolish hope that Solas may come back for them. Packed away and stored in a corner of her room. In fact, her thoughts were mercifully free of the echoes of his shade in recent weeks. Now, it was all flooding back. Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to gather her wits and banish the painful memories back to the shadowed corners of her mind where they belonged.

“Are you well?” Anders’ voice was soft behind her.

With a nod, Natalie raised her head. “I’m fine. Let’s— let’s unpack a different one first.”


	47. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a reference to implied sexual abuse. Nothing graphic or detailed, but it's there.

The flamboyant black and blue bird showed itself a scant few days later, amidst another bout of furious cleaning. It was a full-time job trying to unpack, organize and then break down the crates so that she could have her house back. To her surprise, she found them full of all sorts of things. Bedrolls, blankets, extra dried rations, healing supplies, clothing in several sizes. In the bottom of one, she even found a small chest of gold pieces. More than she even knew what to do with. Once she discovered these things, it dawned on her what their purpose was. So she set them aside, waiting.

The crate of books was pushed away into a corner. Some day she would face its contents, but that was not going to be today. Or this week. Or maybe even this year.

Natalie was busy trying to locate her potion-making tools when the chattering screech startled her. The bird sat on the windowsill, just beyond the glass, it’s white breast gleaming in perfect contrast to its stark black head and beak. A tiny white scroll was tied around its leg. Depositing the bundles of dried herbs in her arms onto the table, she crossed to the window and tipped it open so the little bird could hop in. Unraveling the paper from its leg, she smoothed the parchment to find familiar, looping handwriting on pearlescent paper.

 

_ Natalie,  _

_ It was lovely of you to invite us over for a visit. I was so very pleased when H told me we’d be seeing you. We should be able to pop round to join you for dinner on the 10th of Wintermarch.  _

_ I do hope you don’t mind if I bring a couple of friends along. They are dying to meet you. _

_ Ta! _

_ Dorian _

_ Ps. I hear rumors that congratulations are in order? You saucy minx. _

 

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a laugh at his parting words. Apparently, those rumors at Skyhold were traveling in her absence. Really, she could do worse. But the 10th day of Wintermarch, that was soon. Too soon. Only a couple of days from now. 

There was so much to be done. 

Anders, as it turned out, was an efficient co-conspirator. He jumped into the role of healer without blinking. From what Varric had told her, at one time Anders ran a clinic in Kirkwall caring for refugees and the poor. It certainly seemed like he knew what he was about now. The heavy cloak of all that he had gone through in recent years fell away and he appeared to stand a little straighter. This was obviously his element. 

It was decided that the loft of the barn was warm and dry enough to serve as a makeshift bunkhouse for the time being, although a better solution would need to be found in the future. The two of them worked late into the night, repairing the rotted wooden stairs, scrubbing what was left to be cleaned, and readying the bedrolls and other supplies.

Amidst their frantic preparations, Natalie had to make her promised trip back into Wycome to take her sample potions to the apothecary. As much as she was loathe to leave in the middle of it all, the chance at being able to make a living was equally as important. Giles, the aging herbalist, inspected her mixtures with a critical eye, smelling, tasting, swirling, and pouring until she thought she would die from the blood rushing from her brain. 

Finally, the old man graced her with a gap-toothed smile and a handshake, along with an agreement that she would bring him batches of each of his specified concoctions. It was nothing too complicated, health potions, elderberry tincture, antiseptic wound salves, blackberry root teas for upset stomachs and elfroot powders for headaches, but it was enough to bring in a small income. 

With all of activity, their days to prepare dwindled quickly to naught. Before she could blink, she and Anders were standing on the doorstep of the cottage in the dwindling twilight, waiting for the telltale sound of voices from the river. The chill winter air turned their breath to swirling eddies of white mist as it froze. 

“They’re late.” She said, her toes tapping inside her shoes and her fingers clutching the lantern in her hand. 

“I don’t believe they told us what time they would be here.” Anders peered down at her with a raised eyebrow. His posture seemed easier since their conversation the night Rylen visited, less like he was waiting for her to turn on him. The bonds of trust were fragile at best, but there. 

“Dorian’s letter said by dinner.” Natalie fretted. “It’s well past that now.”

“Dorian’s letter was just a cover so he could tell you what day to be ready by. I’m sure they will be here.” 

“Maybe they ran into trouble.”

“If I’m correct, Hawke and the elf are with them. As much as I would love to say otherwise, Fenris has proven himself very hard to get rid of. And Hawke— well, Hawke is Hawke. I wouldn’t worry.” 

She found it hard to take it all in stride. Her first instinct was to panic. The jitters in her toes traveled up her legs, causing the muscles to jerk and her foot to dance against the ground.

Tap, tap, tap.

Anders glanced down at her, a crease forming between his brows.

Tap, tap, tap.

Why weren’t they here? Maybe they were intercepted leaving Tevinter. Maybe Hawke was imprisoned in some Magister’s dungeon, and the elves left for dead. 

Tap, tap, tap.

His mouth thinned into a line, white brackets forming on either side of it. 

Tap.

“Would you please stop that?” 

Natalie looked up at him, startled from her thoughts by his irritated tone. “What?”

“Worrying.” She snorted as he stared at her, rolling his eyes he continued. “Well, and the foot tapping. That’s rather annoying also.”

The tense mood broke as she felt a giggle bubble up in her throat. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

Tap, tap, tap.

The look of pure disgust on his face was so comical that she burst out laughing, the riotous sound echoing off the trees and into the darkness. “I—“ Another peal of laughter interrupted her before she could continue. She knew her reaction was over-the-top, but the release of the tension in her muscles felt so good that she couldn’t stop. It fizzed up her throat like champagne bubbles. “Sorry, I,” she gasped for breath, wiping the moisture from her eyes, “I couldn’t help myself.”

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. The deep lines that ran beside those same lips told the story of a life lived with plenty of smiles and laughter, despite what horrors he lived through. What had Anders been like as a younger man, before bitterness and brutality hardened his heart and mind?

Whispers drifted through the trees, harried and quickly stifled. A twig snapped. Both of their heads snapped toward the river. Her hand flew up and clutched at the nearest thing she could find to steady herself. 

A sharp hiss left her lips as she drew and held her breath, listening. More whispers. Her fingers spasmed, soft material folding beneath her grasp. Anders cleared his throat. She looked at him, puzzled. His gaze was flickering rather pointedly between her face and the fistful of his shirt sleeve she was currently strangling. 

She dropped his sleeve like it was on fire, feeling foolish. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Heat spread across her cheeks as she stared with renewed determination at the treeline. “We should, um, probably go meet them.”

“Right.” 

They broke through the treeline to find quiet chaos on the riverbank. Two small rowboats bobbed against the shallow, rocky riverbed, a group of soaking, huddled figures in dark cloaks trying to pull them ashore and into the undergrowth. 

Water flowed over her ankles and into her boots. It would take all of them to hide the boats. A tall blonde form brushed past her, the water splashing around his legs. 

Cold. It tore through straight to the bone, her knees painfully stiff. 

Shaking arms pulled against the rough wood. Muscles strained then released as the bottom finally slid across the rough rock. 

One pull, then another. The sound of wood on dirt, then grass. 

Blood pounded in her ears as they pulled branches from the brush, laying it across the broken foliage to hide the evidence.

A thin wail. An infant crying. Oh god, there were children. They had to get back to the house. 

One by one, they followed the armored figure at the forefront, his white hair gleaming in the faint starlight. Another tiny wail tore into the night, breaking the fearful silence that hung over the group like a shroud. As the cottage came into view, the merry light of the blazing fire in the main room had never looked more welcoming. 

Natalie caught Anders’ arm as they passed the last of the trees. “We can’t make them stay in the loft. They’re all soaked, they may get sick without the warmth of a fire.” Worried Natalie was gone, swiftly replaced by the side of her that was all business. 

He nodded, similarly determined. “I agree. It’s colder than I expected, and the chances of one or more of them contracting some kind of illness are far too high. They need to be where it’s warm.”

“We can figure it out when we get to the house, but we’ll need to get the extra bedrolls from the barn. Maybe we can line them up in the main room?”

“That may be best. A few of them are limping, or having trouble walking. We need to see how badly they are injured before we can decide how to proceed.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the figure of Hawke materializing out of the darkness, her face pale in the moonlight and her lips blue with cold. “Sorry, we’re late. We ran into a little snag, but nothing we can’t handle.”

Natalie could have hugged her. “I was worried. I am glad you all made it here safely.”

“I admit I thought we might not for a moment.” Hawke’s blue eyes trailed over Anders, taking him in from head to toe. “Anders, you look better than last time I saw you.”

“Yes, well, that happens when you live with someone who knows how to cook. Tends to put a little meat on your bones. More than living in a cave, that’s for sure.”

Hawke chuckled as they reached the clearing in front of the house. “I would imagine that is true.”

“We should get everyone inside.” Anders already appeared to be done with their catch up, he was watching the forms with concern in his eyes. 

There were twelve, in total. Twelve miserable, shivering, and traumatized elves. Mercifully, there were only two children, siblings who managed to escape with their slight, dark-haired mother. The sight of those tiny faces made her sick to her stomach. How many horrors had those children seen?

She had seen poverty. She had seen desperation. She had seen addiction and despair. She had seen the lengths that people went to to feed themselves, or their children, or their habit. She had seen violence. But she had never seen slavery, not in person. 

She was not prepared for the sheer horror of it. 

As they stoked the fire and the temperature inside the cottage rose, the layers of sodden fabric was peeled away from scarred and battered bodies. Ragged and threadbare clothing, caked in grime, piled on the floor by the doorway as blankets were passed around and wrapped around shuddering limbs. Her stomach churned with roiling nausea, sick and hot. Threatening to spill over onto the floor. 

Anders shot her a look full of helpless anger as they pulled supplies from the cabinets. His eyes were wide and haunted, pupils blown so wide that the black swallowed the brown whole. She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, feeling his muscles flinch beneath her touch. “I know.” She whispered. “But we’re doing something about it.”

His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Nodding, his face shuttered, going dark. “Yes, we are.”

Natalie approached the young mother and her children first. Her heart broke as she heard the babe’s frail, thin cry of terror from its mother’s breast. A boy of no more than three was curled beneath her arm, his terrified green eyes taking in the room over the fingers he shoved in his mouth. 

Crouching, she looked the woman in the eye. “Hello. I’m Natalie, and I’m a healer. I can take a look at you and your children, if that is okay with you?”

Suspicion greeted her. The elven woman hugged her children tighter to her. 

“I want you to know that I am a mage, but I will not use any magic on you or your children unless you tell me it is okay. I have medicines and bandages here, too.”

“No magic.” Her softly accented voice was firm.

Natalie gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “No magic.”

With some reluctance, the mother peeled away the blanket, revealing the tiny, red-faced infant in her arms. 

By some miracle, the children were in far better condition, at least physically, than she would have hoped. She looked over the tiny girl, as she soon discovered. The baby was maybe a little underfed, and absolutely cold and terrified, but otherwise in fine health. The little boy was much the same. He had bruises on his knobby knees and a small cut at his hairline, but he smiled shyly at her as she sang a little rhyme to him as she cleaned the small wound.

But then it came to the woman. She watched in horror as bruises were revealed on her pale skin, more and more with each inch of clothing that she removed. Before she had a chance to get very far, Natalie stopped her. This was no place to ask this woman to reveal herself and the marks of the trauma upon her body. Privacy, she needed privacy. “Not here. Come with me.”

Natalie led them up the stairs and into the cozy room in the loft she claimed as her own. As the door shut behind the four of them, she let the children settle on the bed. The little boy curled up, his arm draped protectively over his baby sister. Her stomach churned as she waited for the woman to show her the extent of her injuries. 

And there were injuries. Finger shaped bruises on her upper arms and throat and breasts. Long, scabbed-over rents down her back, laid over top of a criss-crossing lattice of old scars from dozens of beatings before this one. Tears in the tender skin of places that should not be torn. A hollow, far-away look in the pair of green eyes that stared at her ceiling as she waited for the examination to end.

The signs of ill-use were distinct and unmistakable. 

Bile rose in her throat as she cleaned the wounds and dabbed antiseptic salve of comfrey and elfroot over them. How could someone treat another person this way? It was beyond the pale. Boiling heat grew in her gut. 

This was wrong.

They would help end this. 

She finished up her work, bandages hiding the signs of years of abuse on the body before her. All she wanted to do was curl up and cry. Or puke. Or maybe puke and then cry. Her thoughts were a jumble inside her skull, a million wings battered at her brain until she could make sense of none of it. 

Picking up the basket, she stopped the woman from following her. “Stay. Sleep here, in the quiet. The little ones need their rest.” The elven woman watched her with wary eyes as she moved to the dresser placed along one wall. Digging through her clothing, she found the Dalish tunic and leggings Hale’s sisters had given her. They were clean and dry, and the smallest thing she owned. “Here. Something clean for you to wear.”

Without another word, she swept from the room and closed the door behind her. In the calm quiet of the loft balcony, she could feel the growing tempest within her. A silent sob ripped up her throat as she leaned her back against the door, shudders wracking her body. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and poured down her face. 

Sahrnia was bad. Sahrnia was poverty and war and misery. But  _ this. _ This was simple cruelty. Cruelty born of dehumanizing another person. For thinking them  _ less. _

She let herself cry, for the first time in a year. And when she was done, a steady calm fell over her soul. She wiped her eyes. She picked up the basket with her supplies. She walked down the stairs to do it all over again. Firm and resolute. 

The main room was a sea of hurts, both simple and horrific. Scars told the stories of the things they had endured, written on their skin like the pages of a novel. A distinct hum of magic buzzed along her nerves as Anders worked alongside her. Natalie was slightly shocked to find that they made a good working pair, him all business while she offered smiles and words of comfort. One by one, they made their rounds until she felt like she had no more energy left to give. Her eyelids were heavy, drooping across her dry and weary eyes.

In the end, her body gave up. After the last wound was healed or bandaged, the last hurt eased, and the last shiver abated, Natalie drowsed at the table with her head pillowed on her arm. The moon was long past its zenith in the sky overhead. The main room was a sea of sleeping bodies in bedrolls, their shapes blurry by the dim light of the kitchen fire. Hawke and Fenris were outside, taking turns on watch. And she was heartsick, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. In the back of her mind, she had the brief thought that she should venture out to find an extra bedroll and curl up on an unused patch of ground, but she couldn’t will her limbs to move

Maybe in another five minutes, she would get up and go to bed. If she just took a power nap, she might have the energy to move.

Hands slid beneath her legs and around her back, their touch barely registering in her exhausted mind. She felt herself lifted, the hard edges of the chair no longer biting into her legs. Soft linen pressed against her cheek, warm with the steady heat of the skin beneath. With a grumble, she snuggled down into the warmth. The scent of oiled leather and smoky, burning campfires and fresh cut elfroot filled her nose. 

It was wrong. The smell was all wrong. She missed the parchment and ink. The deep layered green of an untouched forest full of secrets. Spices, sweet and heady like Christmas. 

A groan rolled from her throat, all the way up from her chest as she felt her tired muscles ease into a soft mattress. She stretched, rolling over onto her side as the weight of a blanket fell across her. Softness and quiet. She burrowed down, deep down, into the embrace of sleep.


	48. Meet Me in St Louis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of it being my birthday and me being old AF... an extra chapter this week!

In three days, they were gone. Gone like they never existed, except for the gaping hollow in her chest that she couldn’t seem to fill. Something changed for her, something big. Her eyes were wide open, taking in the deep ugliness that existed in life, and the inescapable truth that she would never be free of it.

At home, she was sure she had seen the worst humanity had to offer.

Now she wished that were true.

She walked the clearing like a ghost for days, not even knowing what she was looking for. Pain twinged in her side as she fought back the memories of laying on cold concrete, of her ribs cracking beneath a booted foot. It was only once for her. The idea of living in fear of it every day was crippling. She sent a fervent prayer to whatever might be listening that the twelve souls that had crossed her door would find peace in their new lives, far, far away from their old ones.

It was Anders who finally brought her in and snapped her out of it, making her a cup of strong tea and reminding her of the shipment of medicines she owed the apothecary. Afterward, she felt silly and melodramatic, but she thanked him.

A raven landed neatly on the windowsill bright and early one morning in Guardian, just after Wintersend. A bright green ribbon attached a rolled note to it’s gangly leg. Natalie felt her heart skip a beat as she scrambled to untie it. Hale. It had to be from Hale.

And it was.

 

_Hello Dearest,_

_I hope life isn’t too dull in the Free Marches without me. I know I am the light of your life, but it really isn’t fair to your housemate to mope about so. Although, he does not seem the type to be above a little moping himself. I heard your dinner with Dorian was a success, and that you should count on another soon._

_We have been mopping up in the Basin. What is it about me that attracts dragons? It is my face that just makes them want to set me on fire? At least this one was possessed by an Avvar god instead of a Tevinter darkspawn. Small mercies._

_We have moved on to our next terribly important mission. Predictably, the Deep Roads are as dreary as I remember._

_I will try to write again soon._

_Hale_

_Ps. Dorian tells me news of our lovechild has reached the magisterium. Ha!_

 

The raven left with a new note tied to its leg, one telling Hale that it was indeed his face that made dragons want to eat him, and that she hoped they didn’t live in the Deep Roads or else she was sure he would not escape so quickly this time.

She missed Hale with a terrible, gnawing ache. He had been her comfort for a long time, but maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better for her to be her own comfort.

Days passed, the two of them falling into a routine of chores and peaceful companionship. They cleaned, they plotted out their eventual garden, Natalie made her weekly trek into Wycome to deliver the promised remedies to Giles, the apothecary. Anders was still reserved around her, though he was quick to anger but equally quick to apologize when he let it get the best of him. She could feel her distrust of his motives beginning to thaw, little by little, and his playful side beginning to appear as he realized she was not planning on betraying him.

Days became weeks. Twice more, Hawke and Fenris blew through in the dead of night, bringing with them boatloads of traumatized slaves bound for freedom. She never asked how they were freeing these people, but considering the amount of death that lurked behind the eyes of Hawke’s elven lover, she imagined it was bloody. Each time they departed, Natalie was left with a horrible ache in her chest and a renewed determination to help this new resistance any way she could.

Gradually, people started to seek them out as word spread of two healers living in the woods. Neighboring farmers were grateful to save themselves the trek into the city, and they treated everyone and traded their services for everything under the sun. One particularly bad case of gout earned them two hens and a very disagreeable rooster she promptly named Cluck Norris, much to Anders’ confusion and her amusement. The birds arrived with the services of the grateful patient to build a coop to keep them in.

Weeks became months and Winter bled into Spring, bringing with it new growth and balmier weather. The marketplace outside the apothecary shop buzzed with new life as she left it, empty bags in tow. So far, Giles was well pleased with her performance. Every couple of weeks, he passed her a new recipe and asked her to bring more in her delivery the following week.

Natalie stepped out into the bustling central market with pride lifting her chin and a heavy purse of coin weighing down her pocket. The air was scented with the smell of fresh-baked bread. Her mouth watered. Her cooking skills were improving out of sheer necessity, but bread still escaped her. It seemed she was more inclined to bake pitas than actual loaves, because it came out flatter than a board every time.

She followed her nose to the baker’s shop, stopping to admire a display of brightly colored scarves in a silken material as she went. It would be nice to have something to cover her head while she worked in the garden. Perhaps green, to match her eyes? Fingering the soft fabric, she made to haggle with the vendor selling them.

The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, prickling awareness spreading across her skin.

Someone was watching.

Willing herself to keep breathing normally, Natalie tilted her head, trying to appear as if she were cracking her neck. Her eyes scanned the crowd around her from beneath half-closed lids as she stretched and scratched the back of her neck.  
  
Nothing. But she could not shake the sensation of eyes on her back.  
  
Silver coins changed hands as the smiling merchant wrapped the green scarf in muslin and twine and handed to Natalie. She thanked the woman, tucking her purchase in the satchel she wore slung across her chest.  
  
The nape of her neck burned as she moved through the crowd, made thick by the fair weather. As she neared the less-populated edges of the market, shivers trickled down her spine. Natalie got the sudden feeling that there was someone just behind her. She swore she could feel the faint brush of fingers whispering through her hair.  
  
Whirling around, she prepared to defend herself. There was no one. The aisle between the stalls behind her was quiet, the nearest people several booths down from where she stood.  
  
Odd. Very odd.  
  
Turning to continue toward where Daisy waited for her, she tried to shrug off the feeling of unease that was building at the base of her skull. When she got home, she would have to tell Anders. There was a possibility that it could be connected to their nighttime activities, and if someone had come looking for their runaway slaves, Anders needed to know.  
  
Her journey home was longer than usual. Every shadow moving in the grass had her jumping and flaring fire from her fingertips. It felt like she was losing her mind, seeing monsters at every corner. Why was she so rattled? Why was her first impulse to assume that someone looking at her had malicious intent? Because it _felt_ malicious. Call it a gut feeling, but she couldn’t convince herself that it meant anything except an ill omen of things to come.  
  
Natalie shook her head, trying to clear the frantic beating of her thoughts as she followed the forest path from the river side of the valley toward the cottage. Her eyes traveled over her shoulder still, almost of their own volition.  
  
The eyes were gone. No more burning awareness on her back. But their impression remained.  
  
Daisy made a beeline for the barn as soon as they broke through the trees into the clearing. She was a stalwart companion but, much like her rider, she enjoyed the creature comforts as well. Nothing brought Natalie more equine goodwill than an apple and a good brushing.  
  
Anders met her at the doors before she even finished that much.  
  
His face was serious as he crossed the floor, his boots making trails through the loose hay. “Natalie, there is a man here to see you.”  
  
Over Daisy’s wide, gray flank, she peered at him, confused. “He wouldn’t let you heal him?”  
  
Anders crossed his arms over his chest. “He claims he’s not here for healing, just to speak with you. But he won’t tell me where he is from, or who he is. He is lucky he made sure to move slowly, or else I might’ve been tempted to fry him before you returned.”  
  
A huff left her nose. “That’s strange. What does he look like?”  
  
“Tall, red hair, a healthy dose of freckles on his face. Rough hands and arms, perhaps some kind of laborer.”  
  
_Red hair? Huh._ Wracking her brain, she tried to remember if she knew any ginger men on this side of the Fade but turned up a blank. “I don’t know. That doesn’t sound familiar. Let me finish this and I will be in to talk to him.”  
  
But Anders didn’t budge from his spot. His face was creased, heavy white lines bracketing his mouth. The fingers of his right hand drummed rapidly against his arm. “There’s something odd about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like it.”  
  
“You don’t trust anyone.” She replied, with a laugh. “If I listened every time you said you didn’t like something about someone, we would have no patients. Stop being such a curmudgeon.”  
  
His expression remained grave. “I’m telling you, this is different. His energy is strange, like he doesn’t fit somehow.”  
  
Those words made her ears perk. “He doesn’t fit? Is that what you said?”  
  
“I can’t explain why I think that, but that’s the impression I get.”  
  
Years ago, someone said those very same words about her. She remembered the day vividly. A cozy winter afternoon, warmer in memory than in reality. Solas sat in the chair near her with an expression of deep interest in his pale blue eyes. Her own laughter as she juggled her very first fireball echoed in the tiny cabin. _“I could tell that your energy didn’t quite fit the same as everyone else’s. I can only assume that you have a unique connection to the Fade in this world, since you are from another one.”_  
  
A lightbulb went off in her mind and her body started spinning. “No, it can’t be.” She whispered.

“Can’t be what?” Anders was staring at her as if he expected her to reveal her secret life as a darkspawn.  
  
“I think I know who he is.” She unclipped Daisy’s lead line and let her loose in the paddock to graze and made tracks across the yard toward the house.  
  
“Natalie, wait!” Anders called from behind her. She could hear his footsteps following, but she didn’t slow. His fingers skidded against the sleeve of her overdress. “Natalie!” He hissed.  
  
She paid him no mind, bounding with reckless abandon toward the door. Blood rushed in her veins. If this person was who she thought… The implications were doing her head in. Sending the front door banging against the plaster wall inside, she burst into the common room.

At the table, a man occupied the far chair with his back to the door. She could see the thick ginger-red hair curling over his collar and the sun-browned knuckles of his hands as he absently picked at his nails. The slam of the door hitting the wall caused him to jump and turn.

The face that greeted her was unknown, not that she was expecting anything else. It was a good face, a handsome one, with strong, even features, full lips, and blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. A smattering of freckles were dusted over his nose, cheeks and forehead.

He smiled when he saw her. “You must be Natalie.”

 _Oh, dear lord, he’s American._ Midwestern even. She could hear it in his accent, the distinct way he said the words. Steadying herself, she walked toward the table on legs that felt like they might collapse at any moment. “That’s right. Anders tells me you were looking for me?”

“That’s right. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” Tiny wrinkles spread like spiderwebs around his eyes as his face curled around his smile. “I think we have something in common.”

The unexpected tears that welled in her eyes came as a surprise as she made her way to the table, taking the chair next to him. Pain bloomed in her chest as her heart expanded and contracted behind the cage of her ribs. Her hands shook as she set them with infinite care upon the tabletop. “Kansas City?”

“Close. St. Louis.”

Breath caught in her throat at her confirmation. For nigh on three years, she had believed she was alone in this world. To finally find out that she was not was dizzying. She couldn’t figure out if she wanted to laugh or cry. “Chicago.”

“I bet you’re going to tell me you’re a Cubs fan next.” He let out a laugh. “I’m Gabe, by the way.”

“Natalie.” Cry, definitely cry. The reminder of home was too much. She couldn’t breath. Couldn’t talk. “Can I ask you something crazy, Gabe?” She choked out.

“Sure, I’m game.” There was a crease between his brows, but still he smiled.

“Can I hug you?” The question was little more than a squeak as it left her throat.

He looked at her as if she were nuts for a split second before his expression softened. “Sure.”

The moment his arms closed around her, the tears broke free. They coursed like fire down her face, falling on his shirt. It was like holding a piece of home once again. A hard sob shook her shoulders as she clutched him to her, unwilling to let go. A strange sense of peace settled deep in her chest. That is, until she realized what she was doing.

With a gasp, she released him and fell back into her chair. “Oh my god, i’m so sorry. You must think I’m a lunatic.”

With a soft laugh, he reached forward to pat her knee. “I don’t think you’re a lunatic. I admit, I’ll never say no to hugs from attractive women.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky because I don’t make a practice of hugging men I’ve just met.”

“I’m honored to be the first, then.” His grin was so charming, she felt herself returning it. There was something about him, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe it was the sparkle in his blue eyes, or the blinding white of his smile, but she had the strangest urge to throw herself back into his arms and stay there.

A harsh cough came from the doorway.

Startled, Natalie looked away from Gabe’s magnetic blue eyes. She had completely forgotten Anders in the door. Heat bloomed across her face, followed by guilt close on its heels. How different her reaction was to Gabe than it had been to Anders. The mage certainly hadn’t been met with open arms and happy tears.  
  
Blonde brows slashed in a harsh line over his eyes. “Can someone tell me what in the Maker’s name is going on here?” His question hit the floor like a gauntlet being thrown.  
  
Natalie sputtered, her brain whirling. Somehow, she had forgotten Anders didn’t know where she was from. The words to explain it just wouldn’t come out.  
  
Gabe was much faster on the uptake. He rose from the chair and crossed the room, hand outstretched in a gesture of friendship. “Ah, it seems your lovely wife and I are from the same… hometown. I apologize for the hugging. No offense meant.”  
  
Anders stared at his hand, thinly veiled skepticism in his eyes. “She is neither my wife nor does she need my permission, however ill-advised I find the decision.” He turned his face to her, disregarding the person in front of him. “What I need is an explanation.”  
  
In the beginning, she had made the conscious decision not to tell him of her origins. Perhaps, given enough time, she would have chosen to share it. Now, it seemed that choice was being taken from her, and the thought made her more than a little angry. She could feel the telltale rush of it in her gut. “And what makes you think I owe you one?”  
  
“What makes you think I owe you any sort of loyalty when you lie to me?” He countered.  
  
Acutely aware that they had an audience for this particular conversation, she clenched her jaw. Taking a deep breath, she willed the hot anger in her veins to cool. This situation required a cool head and delicate handling. As she looked at Anders, she let loose the rush of air she had been holding in her lungs and felt some of the emotion leave. “I wasn’t born in Thedas.”  
  
“What do you mean you weren’t born here?”  
  
Natalie huffed, casting a pointed look from Anders to their third wheel. “Do we have to do this now?”  
  
Anders crossed his arms over his chest and pinned her with a hard look. “Fine. But you will explain it all later.”  
  
“Fine.”

 

* * *

  
  
Gabe was a breath of fresh air in her otherwise angst-filled life. Over a pot of tea, he regaled her with stories of home and his exploits since he arrived in the Free Marches, all the while teasing her mercilessly with friendly city rivalry. He was a baseball fan, so her being from Chicago was akin to original sin to him. Back home, he had been in construction, a carpenter by trade. Natalie was ecstatic at this news, pulling him outside to pitch the idea of building a small bunkhouse next to the barn, although she didn’t tell him what it was for.  
  
As it happened, the Rift that transported him was opened near Starkhaven, to the East of Wycome. After his arrival, he had wandered for a bit before settling as a farmhand on a vineyard not terribly far from where they now sat. It wouldn’t be hard to visit, if they should so choose. She was comforted by the thought of having something of home so close at hand.  
  
Anders disappeared after their earlier conversation, not showing his face again until she was bidding Gabe farewell in the yard and making promises to have him visit again soon. As the fellow earthling’s back was swallowed by the freshly blooming foliage, Anders regarded her with a hard look.

“Alright, he’s gone. Now explain.” He wasted no time getting down to business. Obviously, he had been chewing on this all afternoon.  
  
“Fine.” A long sigh later, she continued, “I wasn’t born here because I was born in a city called Chicago, on Earth.”  
  
She avoided his eyes, waiting for the inevitable questions. When they did not come, she looked up at him. Brown eyes met green, his eyebrow slowly arching in a curving line up his forehead. She could hear the question he didn’t bother to voice _“And?”_  
  
“Earth is not the same as Thedas. Don’t ask me _how,_ but the Breach brought me here. I was told they found me unconscious beneath a rift, not far from the Inquisition’s original base of operations. I was badly injured, near death.”  
  
“And this Earth is where? Are you saying you came through the Fade?” Anders asked, his tone harsh and accusing.  
  
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Somehow, the Fade is connected to both worlds. Earth is on the other side, parallel to Thedas, or touching it somehow. I don’t know the nature of it, or how it works, but the Breach broke through both sides at the moment of its creation and pulled me through. Or something else did.” Natalie’s fingers twisted together under his scrutiny.  
  
“So, your mage abilities manifested once you came here, that’s what you meant when you told me they came later in life?”  
  
She nodded. “It happened weeks after I arrived. Someone grabbed me from behind and scared me, my mind just—reacted. I wasn’t joking when I told you I mind-blasted a Qunari across a training field. That’s exactly what happened.”  
  
Anders finally moved, breathing in a long breath and releasing it in a shuddering torrent. “Well, that’s a lot to take in. I admit that’s not at all when I was expecting you to say when I asked what was going on.”  
  
Natalie offered up half of a smile, her shoulders tense. “I know. I’m sorry.”  
  
He shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I can’t tell what it says about me that I’m not even phased by it, though. I didn’t realize my life had devolved quite so far into the absurd that everything you just said makes complete sense.”  
  
Her answering laugh was short. “I don’t know, you look pretty shell-shocked right now.”  
  
“So, did you becoming an abomination come before or after the Qunari throwing?”

Natalie nearly choked on her own tongue. It swelled, laying heavy in her mouth as she struggled for the words. “Wh-what?” How did he know that? Had Hale told him? No, Hale would never. Hale had kept her secret from everyone when she asked, he wouldn’t tell _Anders_ of all people.

“The spirit inside of you. When did that happen? Before or after the magic?”

“How do you know that?”

Anders approached her, his brown eyes boring into her with startling intensity. Blue rippled over the surface of his eyes, spreading in lines arose his face for a split second before it receded. But she saw. “I didn’t, until I felt you do magic. It was Justice who noted it, that night we healed the first group of elves. I could feel his interest the moment you called for the Fade.” His fingers reached out, tentative at first, then sure. Grasping her hand, he turned her palm to the sky to study it. “Like calls to like. The energy signature of your magic is similar to his own. Without him, I never would have noticed it.”

“Anders, there’s more to it than that. I—“ Natalie could feel her shoulders fall as she faced the inevitable truth that she would have to tell him all of it. “I’m not possessed, at least not in the same way you are.”

“What do you mean?” Warm bled into her skin as he laid his other hand on top of her, enveloping her skin in his.

For a moment, the idea of pulling him closer filtered across her brain. What it might be like to let him embrace her whole body, instead of only her hand. It surprised her. Anders was a constant presence, but one she kept at arm's length, for the most part. He was a troubled soul, one with scars on his past that may never heal. She didn’t think she felt any spark of attraction toward the mage but, for a moment, she considered what that might be like and felt a tiny warmth flicker.

 _Nat, get ahold of yourself._ Scoffing at herself, she pushed aside the asinine idea. Obviously, she was harder up than she thought, if the innocent touch of his hand on hers was giving her such thoughts. And she felt guilty. Anders was a man who needed to be loved by someone, and Natalie didn’t think she would ever be able to offer that to him. Her traitorous heart, unfortunately, still refused to return to her chest. It remained in the keeping of a man who didn’t know its worth.

She was such an idiot.

“Natalie?”

Realizing she must be staring like a dolt, Natalie took a breath and looked back into his face. “Sorry, I got lost there.” Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand from his. “I, um— I’m not possessed because, as far as I can tell, I am a spirit.”

It was his turn to stare like an idiot. Whatever answer he was expecting, it was not the one she gave him. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“No! I—“ she gave a huff of exasperation, “I’m telling you the truth. I, Natalie, was dying when the Breach pulled me into the Fade, maybe even dead already. Something happened to me there. A spirit found me. She, I, gave over her life and energy to rebuild this body. My brain tells me that I am Natalie, but in reality— I think i’m more like a spirit possessed by a human than the other way around. I think I must have made a choice to be Natalie, rather than whatever I was before.”

After a moment of slack-jawed silence, Anders shrugged in a shockingly nonchalant manner and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, that certainly explains some things.”

“That’s all you have to say? After all that?”

Again, he shrugged. “That’s all. How about we go make some tea?” He strode off toward the house, his long legs making quick time across the the grass. He stopped part way and tilted his head to the side. “You know, I’ve been thinking we really should get a cat. I think I saw a mouse in the barn this morning.”

“A cat?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You know. Little. Furry. Big claws. A cat.”

“I know what a cat is.”

He smiled at her, his brow wrinkled. “Then why are you asking silly questions?” He turned and continued on toward the house. “Think about it!” He tossed over his shoulder.

Men. Why did she have to be constantly surrounded by incomprehensible men?


	49. Street Spirit

The thing about confessions is that they were supposed to change things. And change things it did.

It was imperceptible at first, the slight shift in the air between the two of them. A few more words exchanged throughout the day. A personal detail shared during a story at dinner time. The extra few minutes they lingered over the table, long after the sun had sought its bed and they should have done the same. Life was less tense. There was less time spent watching each other like caged animals from the corners of their eyes.

Somehow, she thought it might be the realization that he now held a secret of hers just as deadly as his that evened the playing field between them. If knowledge got out about what she was, what the nature of her existence in this place was, it could be disastrous for her. While the Templars and the Circles were defunct, the fear of abominations and blood mages still held strong in the common people. No one would ship her off to a prison now, but she could very well find herself the victim of an angry mob or on a slave block in Minrathous to be used as some kind of research subject. It was a consequence of no longer being under the Inquisition’s protection that she had not considered when she came up with the idea to leave.

But, despite his past, Natalie found that she trusted him to keep her secret. Not because he was forced to, but because it was the right thing to do.

He continued to open up to her, telling her the story of how he became a Grey Warden, of his first escape from the Circle at a terrifyingly young age. He even talked about Kirkwall, not about his plot, or the manifesto he wrote, or the explosion, but about Hawke and their escapades there before it all went sour. As he let her in, little by little, she could see that he adored his famous friend and those feelings went far further than friendship, even if he was scrupulously careful not to say so. Judging from the looks that passed between Hawke and Fenris every time they came by, it seemed obvious why he avoided the topic.

They could be comrades in heartbreak, then. Both pining uselessly for a person they couldn’t have, and who didn’t want them anyway.

So she returned the favor, regaling him with tales of home, of her work in the hospital, and of the Inquisition. He was particularly fascinated with her knowledge of modern, Earth medicine, asking her questions about medical techniques and studies and theories until her throat was raw and her ears near bleeding. Whatever this was didn’t seem to be friendship, not yet anyway. But maybe it was close to it.

Life continued in a monotonous ripple, flowing from one day to the next. Each expanding circle just the same as the last. A sinking suspicion that it couldn’t continue this way wormed its way into her thoughts and took root like a weed. Not matter how many times she yanked it out, the roots sprouted once more.

Anders worked beside her, planting row and row of garden beds with seeds she brought back from Wycome. The temperate climate meant they had the right weather for many of the ones they would need. Days passed elbows deep in the feel of the dark, rich soil. It became something of a meditation to spend hours tending to the tiny sprouts now pushing their feathery heads out from the earth to say hello. Somehow, she found some peace there, buried somewhere between the carrots and the spindleweed. At the end of each day, she could step back and admire the very visible fruits of her long labor.

Letters arrived regularly from both Hale and Dorian. Hale was finished in the Deep Roads, but seemed reluctant to say much about what he found down there. Politics were keeping him busy at Skyhold, some kind of tension simmering between Orlais and Fereldan and directed at the Inquisition. She could tell from his words that he was worried about it. Gabe, also, kept in contact, even dropping by once more to help her construct a few fences around her garden. His presence was comforting, familiar. She liked him immensely, but perhaps that was only because he was a tiny slice of home. He didn’t stay long, as his boss seemed to be the type to not want his employees to go too far for too long, but he left with the promise of another visit. Anders was not sad to see the back of him. Despite her prodding at him to play nice, he persisted in his intense dislike of the man.

Natalie loved this life. Loved it in a way she never expected to. Being a city girl her whole life, the prospect of living rough in the country always filled her with dread. But the peaceful life seemed to suit her now, after all the craziness of the past few years. It was easier to breathe here, easier to relax. She could still help people, still practice medicine, but she had space to retreat when life became too much and a companion who seemed to understand her need for solitude.

It was nice, not feeling suffocated in her own skin anymore. It made her realize how fraught her time with the Inquisition and her relationship with Solas had been. Simple. This life was simple.

She stood barefoot in the kitchen, the well-worn floorboards smooth beneath the soles of her feet. The simple dress of pale green linen swished around her calves as she swayed, humming an absent tune as she snapped the ends from a basket of fresh green beans. Dark curls tickled the the skin on the backs of her arms where her short sleeves left them bare. Her unruly mop had grown in her time in Thedas, now reaching well down her back and clear to her waist. Back home, it would have long since been chopped off, but she was enjoying the simple pleasure of not having to care about it. No dressing up, no makeup, no manicures. No one she cared to impress. Although maybe she would cut it, now that the weather was growing warm and the heavy weight of it was sending streams of sweat down her back.

Anders swept into the house behind her, plate of freshly cleaned fish clasped in one hand and his staff in the other. “I brought dinner!”

He looked so pleased with himself that she couldn’t help but smile. “Well done. Those will go nicely with the beans I got at the market yesterday.”

“Hmmm. Seems a little early in the year for those, with the cool weather lasting longer than usual. Someone must be using magic to stimulate the plant growth.” He set the plate down on the table and peered over her shoulder at the beans on the table. Reaching an arm around her, he snatched one from the bowl and quickly crunched down on it before she could scold him. He tapped the uneaten half on the end of his nose as his eyes took on a faraway look, a soft hum coming from his throat. “Tastes exactly the same. I wonder what spells they could have used to help them grow.”

“At home, people build greenhouses to grow things out of season. The glass panes in the walls and ceiling let in sunlight, but trap in the heat and moisture. People grow all sorts of things in them.” The beans continued to snap beneath her fingers as she worked. “Maybe someone around here has one.”

“All that glass? That seems expensive for a simple farmer.”

Natalie shrugged. “It was an idea.”

“Maybe someone has mages working for them. I guess, theoretically, you could enchant stones with fire runes and place them in the ground in your vegetable beds. If you kept up with energizing them, they might keep the ground warm enough to allow growth in the winter.” Anders moved around the kitchen, his lanky form casting long shadows on the floor. He pulled out a few jars of dried herbs she kept in the cabinets for cooking.

“But the cold air would still freeze the plants. You would have to place them close to the surface, and it would only work on something low to the ground. Carrots. Potatoes. Beans.” She held up the green bean she was busy snapping to emphasize her point. “Plus, you would still want to cover the plants at night to keep the frost off them, which is a ton of work. I would think maintaining all those enchantments would get draining very quickly on someone.”

“You would need a lot of them too, especially somewhere far south. Winter doesn’t get terrible here, so I guess it might be possible. I wouldn’t mind giving it a try, if I’m being honest. The idea is intriguing.”

Natalie chuckled, shaking her head. “That seems like a lot of trouble for a few beans.”

“Hey,” He shook his finger at her, his face stern, “some people take their beans extremely seriously.” His facade didn’t hold long, a grin splitting his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Natalie couldn’t help but notice how much better he looked. Gradually, he filled out. His cheeks were less hollow, his body less painfully thin than in the beginning. The gray cast was gone from his skin, leaving the streaks of gray in his blonde hair looking distinguished rather than old and worn. “Apparently.”

He grinned, his arm brushing past her side to grab another bean from her bowl. She slapped at his hand as he chuckled, retreating around the other side of the table. “I can't help myself. Fishing is hungry work.”

“Well, you just scurry off while I cook then. You're just slowing me down. I'll call you when it's time to come gorge yourself fat.”

With another laugh, Anders skirted around her to the door, putting himself just out of reach. “I'll just be out here, doing-- things.”

“Don’t you go harassing my chickens again!”

“I'm not going to harass them! I already told you the rooster started it that last time!” He called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the door.

The rooster started it. Ha. Who did he think he was fooling?

 

* * *

 

Soft sunlight warmed the skin on her face as she reclined in the grass. The sweet scent of wildflowers filled her nose as she twirled the stem of a spray of tiny, white blooms between her thumb and fingers. Lowering it to her nose, she inhaled deeply, letting her eyes fall closed. It was so peaceful. Her soul was at rest, floating here in her private oasis. The need to escape for a while drove her here periodically. A place to simply be.

Dropping the flower to her chest, she stretched her body out along the ground. Muscles elongated and joints released any last tension from her body as she sank into the ground. Her fingers found the dirt beneath the grass, settling into its cool embrace, the tips leaving tiny indentations.

A low, buzzing hum vibrated up her neck, the slow, soft notes of a song she had never learned floating through the air. She felt the answering energy from the ground beneath her, it called to her. Calm. Cool. Filling her with life-giving essence.

Darkness fell across her face, the sunlight suddenly gone. With a start, her eyes flew open. A black silhouette, fully outlined by the blinding sunlight behind its head, filled her vision. Gasping, she sat up straight, squinting her eyes against the glaring light.

Her visitor stepped back, the blackness receding from its form to reveal a face as fair as it was surprising.

It was a man, an elven man. One she had never seen before. He was tall and slender, with skin as pale and smooth as fresh cream. A waterfall of shimmering black hair fell in dark sheets clear to his waist, twined around the thorny spines of a horned diadem around his brow. Robes of darkest blue bleeding into black and covered in constellations of shimmering stars fell from his shoulders, shrouding him in a blanket of the night sky. His pale face was a masterwork of hard chiseled angles and thickly lashed golden eyes, staring at her with the startling intensity of a bird of prey.

He was breathtaking.

And he was powerful.

She could feel it drifting off of him in waves as she stared into the lamplit eyes, unable to form words with her swollen tongue.

“Well, well, well. What do I find on my afternoon stroll but a little bird singing a merry tune in my path?”

Her brows creased. “I’m sorry?” His words were light, but his voice held an undercurrent that made her skin crawl.

“Tamahn ane banal rahn’en min adhl’en, da’len.”

Like the rabbit she was nicknamed after, she felt the urge to scurry off where this man could no longer see her. Standing, she took a step away from him. The urge to be anywhere but standing here under his scrutiny filled her like a sudden summer storm. She wanted to run. To hide. To be anywhere but here. “I would prefer to be alone, messere.”

“Ah, I am intruding. Ma serannas.” He brushed past her, his long robes flowing across her feet. It felt like a power move, one meant to intimidate her. There was plenty of room to walk through the clearing without coming so close, but no. He had to walk so close that she could count the hair on his eyebrows. Typical.

Saying nothing, she straightened her spine, feeling a rod of steel settle in its place. No stranger was going to take her by surprise and make her feel unwelcome in her own refuge. Her eyes followed him out, green and full of broiling anger, but she kept her face carefully neutral.

“I have a question for you, little bird.” He stopped, his head slowly turning until she could see the aristocratic lines of his profile over his black-clad shoulder.

“Then ask it.”

White teeth flashed as he smiled, pointed and predatory. “What did it feel like to die?”

Alarm bells rang in her head. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course, you do.” He turned to face her fully, his eyes sharp and filled with shadows and madness. “I’ve always been curious to know what it feels like, to feel your soul slipping from its moorings like a ship in a storm.” He stalked toward her, black cloak billowing like a cloud. “Does it hurt?” He dwarfed her, his gaze pinning her to where she stood. “Can you feel the very moment you shed your earthly form?” He raised a hand, his fingers flexing as they reached out to run down her cheek. The touch of his skin on hers sent shivers down her spine. “Does it feel like freedom?” He whispered, his face drawing near her until she could feel the warm waft of honeyed breath on her face.

In a flash, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from her. A brave front while, inside, she was quivering in anger and fear. The sick memory of sour breath in her ear and a hand over her mouth invaded her mind. Terror pulsed, hot and sticky through her veins. Drawing a deep breath, she steadied the tilting of the ground beneath her feet. “You touch me again without my permission and I will happily remove your hand, sir.”

A smirk flashed across his features as he leaned even closer. “Oh, now that would be quite a sight to see.” Her breath caught in her throat as his golden eyes locked with hers. Quick as a solar flare, his smile turned to a deadly snarl and she found herself dangling from the ground. Pain radiated from her throat where his hand held her aloft. Struggling to draw breath, she gasped and scratched at his skin with her fingernails, leaving dirty streaks on his pale skin.

“So brave. So defiant. But you will learn respect, little bird.” There was a jerk and she felt the bones in her spine strain and crack as he yanked her forward, drawing her eye to eye with him until their noses touched. “You will respect me. After I am done with you, you will _adore_ me.”

Eyes wide, she took in his transformed face. The angular features had turned feral, his full mouth drawn tight into an angry snarl. Yellow eyes spat lightning from their tawny depths.

The air around them crackled with power, she felt it gathering around him. Reflexively, her own jumped to her call. The barrier spell was at the front of her mind, ready and waiting for him to strike.

A savage growl rent the air, startling them both. Her violent companion peered past her into the darkness, his eyes narrowed. Without warning, he dropped her and she fell, toppling over to roll hard onto her shoulder. It hurt, dull spikes of pain shooting through her arm, but she recovered and rolled onto her back. He simply stood there, staring into the darkness beyond the trees.

Natalie stared, numb with shock. What was in the trees? Hopefully nothing worse than what stood before her, Finally, she willed her frozen limbs into action. She scrambled off the ground and darted in the opposite direction. Tossing a final look over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she saw the tall form and, in the trees beyond him, the glowing impression of three pairs of red eyes.

Struggling for breath, she felt her lungs expel a strangled scream as she bolted into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

“Natalie.”

Her throat was raw and painful. Her head pounding. The sound of screaming filled the tiny room.

“Natalie!” Hands settled on her shoulders, their weight an unwelcome presence inspiring terror instead of comfort.

Her eyes flew open as she lashed out with arms and legs, a shuddering scream flying from her mouth.

“Natalie! Natalie, it’s okay.” The voice sounded familiar in the darkness. Moonlight spilled from the uncovered window, highlighting blonde hair and warm brown eyes.

“Anders.” A sob welled up in place of the screams as the fight drained from her limbs. “Oh my god, Anders.”

He gathered her against his chest, holding her tight against him. Soft noises of comfort issued from his throat. “Shh. It was only a nightmare. You’re safe.”

Nightmares. Always with the damn nightmares. Just when she thought they were over, a new set reared their ugly head. What she wouldn’t give to be able to fall asleep at night without the fear of horrors in her mind. Except she knew better. She knew the things in these particular dreams were not simple nightmares. It would have been better if they were.

Salty wetness spilled down her cheeks, pooling into the warm, bare skin on his chest. He stroked a hand up and down her back, the gentle touch relaxing tightly bunched muscle. Fingers trailed up her neck and into her hair, spreading cool trails of healing magic. It sunk into her skull, easing the painful throbbing behind her eyes.

By slow degrees, her mind accepted that she was here, in her own bed, rather than back in that pocket of the Fade. Her muscles relaxed and she released a shuddering breath, slumping into the body that held her own.

He allowed her to lay there for indeterminable minutes, until the tears dried and her eyelids drooped once more. With a pat on her back, he moved to pull away. “I should go. You need your rest.”

“No.” She caught his hand as he moved to leave his perch on the edge of her bed. “Please, will you stay?”

Brown eyes glittered in the moonlight as he stared at her, a crease between his pale brows. “Natalie, I don’t think that’s a good id—”

“Please? I have an extra blanket. I just— I just don’t want to be alone.”

The sound of a long sigh reached her through the dim room. “Okay. Scoot over.”

Anders clambered into the bed beside her, his long form sliding beneath the covers. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling like he couldn’t decide if this was torture or not.

Rolling on her side to face him, Natalie studied his troubled profile. Guilt started to cloud her mind. He didn’t seem like he wanted to be here. “You don’t have to. I’ll be alright if you go back to your room.”

His head lolled to the side until he could look her in the eye. In the faint light, she could see the beginning of a smile touch his lips. “Come here.” Reaching out, he wrapped an arm beneath her and pulled her to him until her head rested against his shoulder and her body was tucked against his.

It was warm. The heat of his body leeched into her, releasing any tension left in her muscles. She had missed this, the simple act of being close to another person. The comfort of another’s breath, lulling her to sleep.

Her eyes drifted closed and her mind wandered back into the darkness of the unconscious Fade.

There were no more nightmares that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I replayed Trespasser this past weekend for... reasons. Are you ready? I am. :)


	50. still feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shoutout to my new beta! I won't out you, but you know who you are. :) She's great guys, and any remaining mistakes are the fault of me not listening to her or changing stuff after she's read it. Hopefully, there will be less of them now!

The days grew longer, stretching until they rebounded to shorten once more. Unbearable heat blanketed the land with sweltering humidity and biting insects, causing a burst of growth in her garden. She surveyed the burgeoning greenery that seemed to fill each row of beds with satisfaction. The sweet scent of fresh greens filled her nose, mixing with damp earth. Frothing leaves tickled her wrists as she plunged her fingers into the dirt, feeling for the root bulb of a particularly stubborn weed. Sweat dripped down her neck as the sun beat down on her from its high perch. 

Humming a soft tune, she yanked and twisted, pulling the stubborn plant from her meticulous rows. She tossed it into a nearby basket, to dispose of in the woods behind the house. It wouldn’t do to have the damn thing just root somewhere else in the garden. Crawling on the ground, she moved down the row inspecting leaves and pulling up any encroachers at the first sign. Satisfied that she had banished every bit that did not belong, she picked up the basket and made for the trees. 

For a split second, she could feel the weight of eyes on her. Her braid whipped down her back as she whirled her head around, scanning the trees. The scrutiny felt eerily similar to whatever watched from the shadows that day in the market. “Hello?” she asked, her voice firm. 

Birds fluttered from the trees, making their way lazily through the blue sky beyond. Nothing else stirred, but she felt the eyes lift from her and disappear. A shiver ran down her spine. 

Anders sat outside the open front door to the house as she passed. He smiled up from the mortar and pestle, where he was grinding up herbs for some new concoction he was devising to ease the itch of insect bites. He wouldn’t tell her what was in it yet, but he promised to share the recipe once it was perfected. His ideas were brilliant, leaving her jealous at the way he combined things to produce effects she could only imagine. She felt like it should be intimidating, but he was so quick to share his knowledge that she couldn't resent him his talent.

Hoof beats echoed up from the river, several sets if she wasn’t mistaken. They hit the ground rapidly, in ever louder strikes. Several sets, and moving  _ fast _ .

Puzzled, she glanced at Anders. “Are we expecting someone?” The Dalish normally came on foot, and they weren’t expecting Hawke and her crew until tomorrow. Not that they rode horses anyway. 

Anders shook his head, peeling his tall form from the ground, a crease forming between his eyes. “Not that I know of. Riders, three or four of them. Too many to be someone seeking healing.”

“You should go in before they see you, just in case.” A stir of fear bubbled up in her chest. What if someone they healed found out who he was and reported him? They lived in a little bubble here, in their forest cottage. Sometimes it was easy to forget that there was a world outside the trees.

“No, I’m not leaving you out here on your own, so you can just stop right there with that. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you while I hid in my room like a child.” He grabbed his staff from its resting place against the house and walked to where she stood, ready to present a united front to their visitors. “Plus, I have a bad feeling about this.”

She did too, she realized. There was a heavy stone lodged firmly in her belly and the telltale burn of anxiety across the back of her neck. “Me too.” 

The crackle of magic was heavy in the air as the hoof beats grew nearer, the riders still hidden by the dense summer foliage. Anders stood tall and straight beside her, the ozone stench of his destructive power hanging around him like a shroud, despite his calm pose. From the way it thickened the atmosphere, she was surprised that his eyes weren’t glowing crystalline blue. She called forth her own magic, bending the fade until it hovered around her fingers like golden rings. For once, she found herself lamenting the absence of her staff. A harsh reminder that beneath her bed was not a proper place to store it. 

From around the bend, four horses came into view. All of them stood tall and proud with coats of gleaming chestnut and black. The men atop them were dark of skin and hair, unfamiliar in both face and adornment. They rode into the clearing and stopped, the lead rider dismounting first. He surveyed their humble home with a raised brow and a sneering lip, as if he were too good to even stand here. 

It raised her hackles, watching him judge them. She made to bark out a snappy comment, but Anders beat her to it. “Can we help you with something? I apologize that our home is so obviously not fit for your exalted presence.”

His dark eyes narrowed as his fellows dismounted behind them. Natalie noticed the similarities between their garb. The other three were dressed in similar structured garments of black and deep gray. Well-muscled with watchful eyes, they hung behind the ringleader with heavy weapons on their belts. But the first man, he was a ruby amidst steel. His red velvet doublet was out of place in the sweltering late-summer heat. A neat, well-oiled goatee covered his chin. An ornate staff of gleaming silverite with a head depicting a serpent swallowing a bright green gem the size of her fist was holstered to his back. 

A nobleman and his guards. She had seen the type often enough at Skyhold, what with all the silly Orlesians and their shows of wealth and status. Judging by their looks, they hailed from Tevinter. 

_ Fuck. _

There was only one reason a Tevinter nobleman would be here in their quiet backwater. 

The leader’s eyes were hard as obsidian as he made a point of taking in Anders from head to toe. “I am Magnus Ocrea of House Ocrea in Perivantium. I’ve come seeking news of something of mine that was stolen from me. I heard a rumor that I may find further information here.”

“I don’t know how we would know about anything of yours, messere.” Natalie replied. “We live simply, and don’t have much contact with people beyond those who come here seeking healing.” Her hand tensed at her side. If he made any move for the weapon at his back, she would be ready. 

“Your accent, domina, it is strange. Where do you hail from?”

“The Anderfels.” Anders cut in before she could answer. “My wife and I were members of the Circle in Denerim. We came north after the dissolution of the Circles to escape the Mage-Templar conflict.”

Magnus gave a great huff, his face curling into an expression of disdain. “Ah, yes. And now you peddle remedies to farmers?” 

“Correct.” Anders’ chin lifted. She could see the anger growing in his eyes, in the set of his jaw and the stiffness of his shoulders. 

Her fingers found his arm, a small warning not to do anything rash. “Messere, I ask again. What can we help you with? We are happy to, if we can.”

“A girl went missing from my household, a housemaid, along with her two children. I should dearly love to have them back. We are worried about their well-being. She is not in the best mental state to care for them on her own. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Ice water ran in her veins as his words penetrated. This. This was the garbage that abused that poor woman. She knew it deep down in her gut. And if she were right, she would bet anything he had fathered those children. With her face carefully neutral, she shook her head in response. “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t get many visitors out here. Mostly just local farmers looking for headache powders. I wish I could help. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

The Vint glared at the two of them, frustration at his thwarted mission clear in his eyes. “If I find out that you know something you are not telling me—“

“I warn you not to threaten my wife, sir.” Anders stepped forward, partially blocking Natalie with his shoulder and arm. 

“I hardly see what you think you could do about it if I were.” He bristled at Anders’ hostility, his pride demanding recompense.

Anders went rigid. Natalie was sure Justice was raging inside of him, ready to burst free at any moment to destroy this puny man and his bodyguards. She couldn’t have dead bodies littering her yard, and dammit if blood wasn’t a bitch to scrub out of her hair. Moving forward to catch Anders’ arm, Natalie slid beneath it to stand between the two men, leaning her weight into Anders. “It’s alright, darling,” she said to him, hoping he could hear the plea to calm down in her tone. To the Tevinter, she gave a clear dismissal. She wanted this horrible man off of her property and away from her home. Now. “I apologize we cannot be of more assistance, but we really have things we need to see to. You might try going to Par Vollen. Those big Qunari can really do it for a girl.”

Their guest turned a shade very close to purple at her words. They stood in opposition for several minutes, Natalie staring at Magnus, and Magnus glaring at her and the tall man who was wishing death upon him from over her head. For a moment, it looked like the Vint would cause more trouble, but instead he leveled a furious look at both of them and made an absent gesture to the guards behind him. “Very well. We are staying at the Bear and Bee in Wycome. Be sure to send word if you remember anything.”

With a sweep of his opulent velvet cloak, he led the way back to their horses with the others in close pursuit. She stood with Anders and watched them go, their gleaming horses and ostentatious clothing disappearing around the path toward the city.

Natalie looked up at Anders, who was glowering at her with a look that could fell a bear. “Don’t you ever put yourself between me and danger again, Natalie.”

“Well, don’t start a pissing contest with an angry man and his bodyguards and I won’t have to.” She snapped. “You almost kicked off something ugly. I can handle that idiot and his threats.”

“I stand by my statement. You don’t even have your staff! What were you going to do if he started throwing fire and you drained your mana in a heartbeat trying to shield?” 

Natalie sighed. “Fine. I acknowledge that both of us could have made different decisions. I think the more important issue is that he was here at all.”

Anders looked around, his head swiveling until he was confident their visitors were gone. “Let’s go inside. We need to decide what to do about this.”

Natalie nodded. “Yes, we do.”

They made their way into the house, the click of the door behind them like the ticking of a clock.

 

* * *

 

A chill wafted off the river as they waited on the bank for the familiar sight of Hawke’s shallow-bottomed rowboats, this time with her staff in hand. It seemed foolish to be doing this only a day after their surprise visit from Magnus and his cronies, but it was too late to stop it. Hawke and Fenris would be on the river and unreachable until they arrived with their cargo. The best they could decide was to stand ready to get the elves into the barn and out of sight as quickly as possible, keeping everyone as silent as they could.

The two of them were careful to walk the forest paths earlier in the day, setting wards that would alert them to any unwelcome presence trying to sneak past. She could feel the small but constant drain on her magic in the back of her head. It was a nagging itch that she couldn’t scratch or do anything about. 

In the distance, the shadowed outline of two small boats drifted toward them. Her breath grew slow and shallow as she watched them near, the huddled forms in black that sat clustered within tugging at her heart the way they always did. At the bow of each boat, an armored figure stood watch, one head covered in dark hair and the other in white. 

As the boats bumped their way onto shore, the two of them converged upon Hawke. 

“We have to move quickly,” Anders urged. “We had an unwelcome visitor yesterday.”

“We need to get them inside before there is a chance anyone could see,” Natalie reinforced.

“What happened?” Hawke replied, her face stern.

“We can tell you once we get inside safely.” Anders’ eyes met Hawke’s and she nodded.

“Let’s go then.”

With efficiency born of practice and urgency, they filed the cloaked elves out of the boats. This group seemed in decent health, all of them capable of moving quickly. They pulled the boats ashore and hid them carefully, fluffing the undergrowth and placing branches to cover their tracks. 

Like a convoy, they trekked up the path at a brisk pace, breaking through the trees and into the yard. It seemed they would make it to the barn without incident. Not that it was a guarantee that something was going to happen, but it seemed likely that the Vint would be keeping an eye on them. Anders ran toward the paranoid end of the spectrum, and she was willing to agree with him on this particular issue. 

But maybe it was okay. Maybe tonight wouldn’t turn out to be a disaster. If only they could keep this low-key for a couple of days until Hawke and Fenris got the former slaves out of here safely, they would have more time to deal with their Tevinter situation.

As the barn neared, Natalie felt the itch in her brain grow into a full-blown alarm. Anders went stock still and stared at her in horror. “Natalie, get them inside. Now.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice. “Go!” she hissed at the black garbed elves. “Run! Into the barn!”

They dashed across the remaining distance to the doors just as the magic flared, lighting the yard with deadly fireworks. “Go!” she shouted to the figures trailing her as she stood in the door to usher them all in. 

By some miracle, they all made it inside. Natalie surveyed the rainbow of faces beneath their hoods. “Stay here, and stay low. If the barn catches fire, you need to be able to escape. I will be just outside.” As the gasping sob of one of the women, her voice softened. “I will make sure no one gets in here to you.” Before she could think better of it, she walked out, slamming the barn doors behind her. 

It took all of five seconds for the first guardsman to notice her. He was on her like a pouncing tiger, his dual blades cutting through the air like deadly claws. She ducked, throwing up a barrier as she rolled out of the way and sprang to her feet. Gathering a handful of the Fade, she yanked at it, filling her arm and staff with pure, burning energy. It coalesced into a ball that flew from her hand into the chest of the attacking rogue. He fell like a sack of rocks to the ground. 

One.

She didn’t stop to think about what she had just done. Whirling, a second ball of roiling fire formed in her palm and she threw it toward the very next form in black velvet she saw. 

Two.

The uniforms were familiar. It was Magnus of House Ocrea, back, and with more friends than before. The yard swarmed with swarthy soldiers in that same black and gray livery. The forms of Hawke, Fenris and Anders flashed between them, trailing the dead behind them. 

More men flew towards her, noting her position before the barn doors. Power flowed into her like a river into the ocean, fire and lightning leaping to her fingertips faster than it ever had. She felt a calm settle over her mind, a detachment. Her eyes glazed over, a haze of white falling over her vision. Dodging the sword of one attacker, she feinted left before swooping behind him to send her staff against the back of his head with a sickening crack. He fell.

Three.

Dimly, she was aware of the blades that caught her clothing, leaving stinging lines in her skin as she flew between the assailants. A foot swept her legs out from under her and she fell with a crash, rolling just in time to avoid an axe between her shoulder blades. Plunging her hand upward onto his face, she released a torrent of lightning directly from her skin into his. The scream that came from his throat was agonizing, bone-chilling. 

Four.

Finally, he fell and she pulled herself from the ground to find the field calmer, many of the enemies downed. Hawke and Fenris were quickly cutting through a final pair, while Anders dispatched one more. His eyes glowed with Justice, blue lines snaking across his skin and disappearing into his clothing. 

Behind her, she felt a well of energy forming. She could hear the chatter of his mind as he thought about the vile things he planned do to her once he had her subdued and her husband dispatched. The pale purple glow in her eyes excited him. He couldn’t wait to get her home and take her apart, find out where it was coming from.

Slowly, she turned. His robes shone red like the blood of his men that soaked into the ground. There was no remorse in his mind for their deaths, consumed as he was with his anger at his bedslave slipping her leash and the woman before him for dismissing him. His dark eyes held a crazed light as a glowing orb of blazing fire formed in his hands. He gestured with palm and staff, the glowing ball of death traveling toward her. 

Calmly, almost bored, she threw up a barrier, deflecting the ball until it sizzled in the damp grass between them. His rage grew, his face reddening beneath his dark complexion. A glowing circle of spellwork appeared below her feet, but she bounded out of the way before it had a chance to burst. Flames warmed her back as they bloomed into life from the ground where she stood only moments before. 

She countered, a bolt of lightning leaving her staff to crack against his barrier, rocking him back as it hit. She took a step toward him. A second. The expanse between them closed. A third. She could see the fear in his eyes as she closed in on him. Her onslaught continued until his arms shook and sweat beaded on his forehead from the strain of keeping his defenses up. 

Finally, the green barrier between them cracked and shattered and her lightning hit. Magnus of House Ocrea fell, his body convulsing with the force of her magic tearing through him. Blood dripped in a line from his nose. 

Once more, she sent a crackling javelin of bright purple lightning into his form. He screamed, a blood-curdling sound that flowed through her like a balm. 

As his limbs stilled, she came to stand over him. His eyes were wide and darting frantically around, trying to focus on her face. Streams of blood spilled from his nose and ears. The once pristine robes he wore were crisp and blackened almost beyond recognition. 

“Mercy,” he croaked.

The poor soul. He was in so much pain. 

She knelt beside him, settling her staff on the ground as she reached out to stroke his smoldering hair away from his face.

“Mercy,” he repeated, his voice soft but hoarse. 

She smiled down at him, running soft fingers down his face as the magic gathered in her opposite hand. Leaning over his rapidly stilling form, she caught the fear in his eyes and she pressed a calm kiss to his brow. “Hush, child, this  _ is _ Mercy,” she whispered, and she reared up and plunged a dagger of pure electric energy into his chest.

Five.

 

* * *

 

Her limbs were numb as the freezing water of the river washed around her bare legs. With shaking hands, she cupped the cold water and raised it, letting it dribble from her fingers and down her chest. Pink-tinged droplets cascaded off her skin where the water met the blood that crusted in all her nooks and crannies. 

Five. 

She killed five men tonight. 

Not demons. Not undead. Not Red Templars. Men.

The worst part was, she didn’t even feel guilty. 

It was odd, feeling guilty over not feeling guilty.

They deserved it, she told herself. They would have killed you, killed the elves, killed Anders.  _ You heard the things he was thinking about you.  _

_ You heard his thoughts. _

That was perhaps the most startling part. A shift had taken place, a moment in time when she was no longer Natalie, but light and magic and  _ Mercy _ . The same thing had happened outside the Temple of Mythal, but it was so much more unsettling now that she knew what it was. 

She scooped another frigid rush of water onto her skin, the last flakes of dark brown blood washing away from the upper curve of her right breast, just above the thin fabric of her sodden breastband. The water numbed her skin, leaving behind a hazy sense of unreality that matched the leaden flow of the thoughts in her head. 

Footsteps crunched down the path. ”Natalie?” Anders’ voice was quiet, almost unintelligible over the splash of the river and the roaring of blood in her ears. A sharp intake of breath cut the air, followed by a quick scramble into the water. “Natalie?” he asked, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Are you well?”

The warmth of his hand bled into her frozen skin, sending a rush of blood to her arm. Pins and needles spread as the feeling returned. She felt herself lean into his touch. 

“Nat?” he asked, his hand running down her arm to grasp her hand. Her head swam as his heat spread like a brand. Like the sun, bringing new life in its wake. 

Turning, she faced him and looked into his familiar brown eyes, with their gentle wings of blonde brows above them. The tiny tracework of lines that radiated outward when he smiled. He was staring at her face, almost studiously so. With an inward smile, she realized that he was looking into her eyes to stop himself from looking lower. His gaze dropped to her mouth as her lips curled up at the corners, and she found herself looking at his. 

It was a good mouth, his lips thin but pink and soft. The slight stubble on his chin framed it perfectly. 

How long had it been since she had been properly kissed?

Too long. 

“Can I kiss you?” Her voice was husky, rough from misuse. It was an impulsive question. And impulsive desire. The urge to  _ feel _ was too great to resist.

His wide eyes dropped once more to her mouth, flickering from her lips to her eyes and back. With startling gentleness, he raised his hand to trail his fingers along her jaw. They caressed her with fiery trails against her cold skin, his thumb moving to trace the full line of her bottom lip. 

And when he lowered his head to press his lips against hers, it was not enough. The touch was tentative at first, growing firmer as she nipped at his lip to encourage him. When she reached up to loop her arms around his neck, her nearly-bare breasts met his chest and he broke. Anders fell upon her like a starving beast and she on him as if he were the only thing keeping her from drowning. 

The kiss was rough, indelicate, full of teeth and brutality. They devoured. They split each other open only to spread the pieces apart and put them back together. His tongue invaded her mouth, searching, claiming. Breath caught, hot and shuddering. 

His hands were in her hair, on her back, grasping her buttocks to lift her full against him, water cascading down as her legs left the water. She wrapped herself around his waist, holding him firmly as she ground herself against him. His legs carried them away toward the bank, night air caressing damp, heated skin. 

It was harried and violent. Her back slammed against the trunk of a tree as he pinned her with his body and peeled away the scant fabric that covered her from his gaze. Frantic. The bumps of her spine ground against the rough bark, the soft skin turning red and weepy as he freed himself and drove into her with little warning. 

She was not ready, but she was. She ached. She burned. She hurt. She wanted more. 

And more he gave her. 

Lips found skin, biting, licking as they moved together. Her nails rent bloody furrows down his back as his body ravaged hers, driving into her with frenzied need until they were both gasping and shuddering, clinging to the other as the waves rode over them and subsided.

When it was over, she could feel herself again, could feel the deep ache in her muscles and her heart. The burning sting of the abrasions on her back, the dull pain of the teeth marks on the curve of her shoulder. But inside, she felt a piece fall back into place and peace followed in its wake.

They slid to the ground, still tangled and dazed. Natalie took in his red face with its shell-shocked expression and rumpled, half-done clothing and had to laugh. It started in her gut and bubbled all the way up until she was laughing out loud. Anders stared up at her, his brows knit tightly together over his eyes. 

“Maker’s Balls, please tell me I’m not the reason you’ve finally lost it,” he said, still looking at her with an incredulous expression. “I know it has been a while, but it can’t have been that bad.”

She shook her head, still giggling madly at the sheer relief of it. “No, no, it wasn’t bad. It was apparently exactly what I needed.” She flopped on her back, throwing an arm across her eyes and taking a breath to beat back the flaming heat in her cheeks. “What the hell did we just do?”

He settled on the riverbank beside her, the sound of his breathing loud over the background of trickling water. “I don’t know. What did we just do?”

Her arm fell away and they both turned their heads to look at the other, their eyes shimmering in the pale moonlight. 

“I—“

“I—“ they began at the same time. Catching themselves, they waited.

“You first,” he said.

“No, you first,” she countered.

A long moment passed as they waited for the other to respond. 

“I don’t think we should—“

“This was fun, but—“

They spoke over each other again and quickly snapped their mouths shut. After another pause, they both grinned and the sound of laughter floated away on the breeze. 

“You first, I think we’re about to say the same thing anyway.” The lines on his face flexed as he spoke. 

She nodded, releasing a long breath she didn’t realize he was holding. How could she explain this to him? “I was involved with someone back at Skyhold, before the end.” She sighed, long and deep, before continuing. “He was an elven apostate. A dreamer, an expert on the Fade, and utterly brilliant. And passionate. And deeply lonely. I thought I could be what he needed to ease his mind, and for a moment in time, maybe I was. I think I fell in love with him the very first time I saw him.”

“What happened?”

“He disappeared, after the final battle with Corypheus. And I don’t mean he died. I mean he just—disappeared. He came to me in the Fade after it was all over and told me that he was sorry and that we were out of time, and then he just left.”

The warm weight of his hand spread her fingers apart and twined around them, their palms resting together. “I’m so sorry.”

“For a long time, I thought he might come back. The books in the crate under the stairs? His. That’s why I was so startled when we opened it. I kept them thinking that he may want them again someday. That he might want  _ me _ again someday. It’s been almost two years though. I think I was wrong.”

The fingers around hers squeezed, offering silent comfort. “Hawke and I were together for years before the Chantry,” he said, his voice carrying in the darkness. “I met her before she went on her mission to the Deep Roads. She was so vibrant and beautiful. I thought that if I could just be around her, maybe some of her light would rub off on me.”

It was her turn to squeeze. 

“We were great together. Great for a long time, actually. But then things went downhill in Kirkwall, the Templars started escalating and Justice—I went crazy. My mental state deteriorated rapidly, I withdrew from everyone. It got harder to control him. I was just so  _ angry. _ Eventually, she got fed up with me and broke things off, although we remained friends.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “I thought maybe I could fix things, but she couldn’t forgive me for the Chantry. For Kirkwall.”

“Anders.” His name was a whisper on her lips.

“But I think she’s happy with Fenris, so I’m happy for her.”

Natalie scooted over, leaning her head against his shoulder. “We’re both disasters. I think it’s probably best if we don’t get together and create one big disaster.”

Anders nodded. “I think you’re right. I don’t think I could give you all of the parts of myself you deserve. Some of them don’t even belong to me anymore.”

“Maybe if we had met years ago, before— but I think it’s probably too late now.”

He turned to press a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I think it probably is.”

They lay there, soaking in the calm after the storm and the inevitable freedom that came with truth. Eventually, a chill shuddered down her spine and she realized how sore and stiff her body felt. Anders stirred against her, his eyes tracing her face and landing on the florid imprint of his teeth on her pale shoulder. “Maker, did I do that to you?”

He sighed in disgust at her nod. “Come now, turn. Let me heal you so you don’t go back looking like ground sausage.”

With a laugh, she spun and let him inspect her. He healed every scratch, every bruise, until she was more whole than she had ever been. They laughed and joked as she pulled her clothing back on and then insisted she return the favor for him. 

After it was all said and done, they walked back to the house in companionable silence. They parted ways with a warm embrace in the main room and went to find their separate beds. 

When the Fade rose up to meet her, she felt stronger, happier, more like herself, than she had in years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I have to say, the influx of comments on the last chapter was AMAZING. Seriously, thank you. And keep them coming. 😅 I'm a total ho for comments.


	51. Say Goodbye

The dawn came far too early that morning. Natalie grumbled as she rolled over, her body still sore and aching from the previous night even after the thorough healing. Light streamed in through the window, pricking her eyes until they watered. The sweet smell of honey and cinnamon floated up from downstairs. 

She was getting too old to be up gallivanting about in the woods so late at night. With a shock, she realized that she would shortly be yet another year older. Thirty-one had passed her by unnoticed in her depressed fugue after the defeat of Corypheus. Thirty-two wasn’t planning to do the same. 

With a groan, she peeled herself up and out of the bed. She had to to get up, get dressed. Make breakfast for the barn full of elves. 

And face Anders. 

Silently cursing herself, she scrounged in her drawers for clean clothes. What the hell was she thinking last night? Things were going so well. Sex, even sex where both parties agreed it was just sex, always complicated things. Always. Hell, it had made her stupid and blind with the last person she slept with. That impulsive moment of madness could ruin everything.

Anders had grown on her, even to the point of feeling some amount of affection for him. She cared about him, about what happened to him. They had a good life here, a productive one. They were accomplishing something. God, she hoped that wasn’t in the garbage now, after her moment of madness. Even if it was fun madness. With a rueful shake of her head, she had to admit that it had been fun. And knowing the feeling of hands on her body again after so long— well, she wasn’t regretting that part. These long dry spells really had to stop.

Pulling on her pants, she reminded herself that they talked about this. There was no expectation of anything beyond their one moment of insanity and desperation. His words last night indicated he agreed. Hopefully, that was true.

Even so, Natalie was feeling distinctly awkward as she descended the stairs, still pulling her hair into a messy braid over her shoulder. Anders stood at the kitchen table, roughly stirring a pot of porridge. His face looked as haggard as she felt, the late night obviously treating him as poorly as it was her. 

He looked up just as her feet hit the bottom, his brown eyes ringed by dark purple and red. “Good morning.” Even with how tired he looked, the smile he gave her was warm. 

“Uh, morning.” Her voice was a low mumble, small enough to evoke notice. She skirted him, moving to the pantry cupboard to fetch bread to go with the porridge.

“How are you feeling?” Awareness prickled along her neck, he had to be watching her. “Not sore, I hope?”

The heat of a blush spread across her face. “Ah, no, I’m alright.” She stared down at her hands, studiously avoiding his gaze. 

“Natalie.”

“Hm?” She didn’t look, carefully slicing the bread and putting it in a basket to take out to the barn.

“Natalie.” His voice took on an edge. “Look at me.”

With a sigh, she set the knife down on the table and lifted her chin. “Is something wrong?”

Anders stood with both hands braced on the tabletop, leaning his weight across the table toward her. His eyes were intense, burning bright under his brow. A frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. “Do you regret it?”

At once, she realized what a prat she was being. Natalie reached across to lay a hand atop his. “No. I don’t regret it. I’m just— not very good at this sort of thing.” She said, lamely. 

“Well, generally, you just acknowledge that it happened so you can move on with your life.”

“That easy?”

“Mmhm. Especially since we did already have a conversation about it.” He didn’t sound angry, but rather amused. He was laughing at her. 

“Then this is me acknowledging it.” Picking the knife back up, she shook her head, a slight chuckle rumbling in her throat. “I’m sorry for being so weird. I admit I didn’t know what to expect when I came down the stairs today.’

“Yes, well, you have a habit of being weird about a great many things, so I’m not surprised.” Anders crossed to collect a stack of tin plates from the counter. “You want to take this to the barn, or should I?”

“I’ll take it. I’m not sure how many of them saw what happened last night, but they might find you slightly terrifying after seeing you turn into Justice.”

He stopped and raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you not aware of what happened during that fight?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Of course I am. I saw it happen.”

Anders tilted his head to the side and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Natalie, I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t myself. Or maybe I was, and you were simply  _ more _ yourself.”

“I guess you’re right.” Natalie’s hands stilled as she thought about his words. He was right, of course. She knew what happened, but admitting it was rather harder than simply ignoring it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. You know you can.”

“Did my eyes light up too?”

“Like the Chantry on Satinalia.”

With a grin, she dumped the last of the sliced bread in the basket. “Good, I would hate for you to get to be the only one who gets to dress for the occasion.” Slipping the basket over her arm, she grabbed the pot of porridge and made for the barn with Anders’ laughter following her out the door.

The yard was surprisingly clean in the daylight. Beyond some rusty brown spots in the grass, it had been cleared of any carnage and dead Tevinter. Hawke and Fenris were sorting through a pile of weaponry near the door to the barn, two of the elves with them. All four looked up at her as she approached, breakfast in hand.

Hawke smiled as she neared. “Natalie, good morning. You are slightly less blood-soaked today.”

“As are you, Hawke. I see you two have already been busy. I was expecting to come out to the yard a little more—“ Her brain stalled out on the word she was looking for. 

“Corpse-y?” Hawke offered. 

Natalie let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, exactly. Do I want to know what happened to them all?”

“Nope. Probably best not to ask,” Hawke replied with a peal of laughter. 

“It’s no more than they deserve,” Fenris’ rumbling voice spat. Natalie rarely heard the elf talk, and he certainly avoided her like the plague most of the time, but when he did it was always directly to the point. He did not mince words.

“We will be a little better defended the rest of the way now, however!” Hawke patted the sword in her hand.

“I brought breakfast.” Natalie held up the pot and basket. “I’m sure everyone out here is hungry after your journey.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Hawke put the sword into the pile by the door and stood, dusting her palms on her leather pants. ‘“I am  _ starving _ . Here, I will take that!” Hawke reached and liberated the pot from Natalie’s hands, a hungry gleam in her eye.

With a laugh, Natalie passed over the basket as well. Hawke looked like she would start drooling any moment. “I will tell Anders you like his porridge.”

Hawke looked slightly dumbstruck for a moment, but recovered herself quickly. “Anders cooked?  _ Really? _ That man can barely make himself eat, let alone cook.”

“I mean, I take a little credit for that. I forced him to learn so that I didn’t have to all the time.”

Hawke peered into the pot with an odd look on her face. “Well, wonders never cease.” She stared a while longer into the pot before looking up, her blue eyes soft as she looked at Natalie. “You’ve been good for him, Natalie. I’m glad he has you here. Glad we made this decision.” 

Natalie felt her cheeks heat. “You make it sound like we’re— involved. We’re really not. Just friends.”

“Are you?” Hawke asked, her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, most decidedly so.”  _ He’s still in love with you,  _ Natalie thought, and nearly said aloud, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t her place.

Hawke nodded, her eyes finding the fair-haired elf at her side with a warm smile of reassurance. “Anders cooking. I hope we don’t all end up with food sickness.” With a stiff laugh, she turned into the barn. “Let’s eat!”

The group headed into the barn with a cheer as Natalie watched them go, a fond smile on her face. She could see why Anders loved Hawke. She was bright, and beautiful. And she had a good heart. 

“A word, amelan?” A light voice floated toward her, catching her attention. A young elven woman in simple gray garb stood by the barn doors, one of the two who was assisting Hawke with the weaponry.

“Of course. Are you in need of something? We have more supplies in the house, and are more than happy to share what we have.”

The woman smiled and shook her head. “No, we are well provided for, you have my thanks.” She reached to tuck a long strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “I watched the battle last evening, and I wanted to offer my thanks for that as well. I hoped to find you uninjured, it was hard to tell when you returned last night with so much blood on your clothing.”

Natalie returned her smile. “Nothing too serious. My fellow healer was kind enough to patch me up after we finished with everything else.”

“That brings me great relief. I will go see to the others now. Fen’Harel ghi’la na.” 

With hardly a noise, she was gone, disappearing into the barn with the others. Natalie watched her go, puzzled by the interaction and her parting words. With a shrug, she headed back to the cottage. She needed to speak to Anders, come up with a plan if something like this disaster happened again.

Today was going to be a busy day.

 

* * *

 

“I’d like it to be big enough to hold at least 6 beds, possibly bunk beds?” A cool breeze was finally startling to blow off the river, taking the edge off of the worst of the summer heat they had lived with the past several months. Natalie was grateful for it. Living a full summer in the Free Marches left her almost missing the snow.

“That should be simple enough. I’ll need to enlist a couple of people to help. It’s a big job. I don’t think I’ll be able to accomplish it all on my own.” Gabe stood next to her, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand and surveying the flat spot next to the barn Natalie had earmarked for a new outbuilding.

“And I bet you’ll be cursing me and wishing for power tools before it’s all over.”

Gabe laughed. “Oh, you can count on it. Do I get to stand on the rafters and cat-call you as you walk by? You know that’s how all construction workers are, so I really can’t work without it.”

“You cat-call me and I’ll make you sorry you were born, buster.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His grin was infectious, what with his dimples and pearly white teeth. Natalie had a feeling his parents paid a small fortune to an orthodontist when Gabe was a teenager.

“Oh! And I need a stillroom added along one side. Our herbs are getting out of control in the house. We need a better place to store everything that isn’t in our kitchen cabinets. I nearly sprinkled wart remover in our soup last night.”

“Yikes! I bet that would have caused some interesting stomach issues.” Gabe braced his hands on his hips and assessed the area with a critical eye. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, there’s enough space to add on a decent sized room on this end.” He walked to the edge of the marks she had scratched in the ground earlier to show him what she wanted. “Right about here.”

“Yes! That would be fantastic.” Natalie clapped her hands together, excited to get this started. After the previous visit from Hawke, it was abundantly clear that they needed a more secure building for their periodic guests, and with winter coming they needed a warmer one too, with a fireplace. “And you said you think you can get it finished before winter?”

Gabe chewed his bottom lip and looked back and forth, mumbling to himself. He seemed to be doing some kind of calculation in his head. “Yeah, I think four to six weeks and we can have it serviceable. It’s a pretty simple construction, really. If I’m optimistic, maybe closer to the four. Hell, if the Amish can raise a barn in a day, we can build a clinic in a month.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “The Amish can raise a barn in a day because the entire community helps. I think that's a few more people than ‘I’ll need to enlist a couple people to help.’”

“See, you’re already underestimating me.” He wagged a playful finger at her. “Someday you’ll be sorry you did.”

Natalie chuckled. “I’m sure I will.”

Gabe stared at the ground, tucking his hands in his pocket. A small furrow started to appear in the dirt where he dug the toe of his boot into the dusty earth, dry after a long summer. There was something on his mind. Her face fell. “What’s wrong?”

His mouth opened and then closed again, his eyes looking past her, staring at nothing. “There’s nothing wrong. I just—I guess I have a question for you, and I feel a little strange about it since we don’t really know each other that well.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow at him. Gabe never seemed too reluctant to say anything that was on his mind, so she found herself curious what he as trying to get at. 

“Well—I’ve been thinking that it may be time for me to find my place in this world. I’ve been kind of drifting around, still trying to get over the shock of even being here. I guess seeing you so comfortable here has made me a little restless.”

She felt bad for him. Hale finding her had been a stroke of luck, despite all the hardship it also caused. 

“I was planning to travel around a bit,” he continued, “maybe find myself a better place to call home that isn’t working myself to death on some vineyard. And I was wondering—well, if maybe you might consider joining me.” 

“Gabe—”

“And I know you have this setup here, but I wanted to at least ask the question to see if you would even consider it.” He held up his hands, like armor before his chest. “I just think it would be nice to be around someone else around who knows what it’s like. Maybe build a tiny slice of home somewhere quiet.”

Well, that was certainly unexpected. The urge to run away from this entire discussion suddenly overwhelmed her, she could feel it crawling under her skin. She certainly didn’t want to alienate him, but she also didn’t want to tell him she would run off with him. There were obligations, and friendships, to consider. “Gabe, I don’t know that I want to live anywhere else. This place belongs to me, not Anders. And he and I have built a business here. I appreciate the offer but—”

“Say no more.” Gabe held up his hands in supplication. “I completely understand. It was kind of a half-cocked idea anyway.”

She let out a long breath. “Thank you for understanding.” It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to let him come stay, but then she remembered the small matter of their frequent, secretive rescue missions. She couldn’t extend any offers like that without Anders, who positively hated Gabe. 

The two of them stood for several moments, simply staring at each other in the most awkward fashion possible. Natalie couldn’t figure out what the hell he was thinking. It wasn’t as if she knew him well enough to tell, like she did with Hale or even Anders, at this point. 

“Well, I know of a sawmill not far away that we can probably arrange for the wood from. I helped him out modifying some of his tools, so he owes me a favor. It helps that he thinks I’m some kind of mechanical genius now, when it's just plain old Earth knowledge.” Gabe chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. The statement seemed like a peace offering. 

“That's wonderful,” she replied. “When do you think you will be able to get started?”

“Maybe about two weeks or so? I just need to arrange all the materials and draw up a couple plans. I’m no architect, but I understand load and weight distribution well enough to put a roof on top of walls.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing what you come up with.” She glanced up at the sky, seeing that the sun was already well overhead. “Man, when did it get this late? I need to get inside and get dinner going. You’re welcome to stay, if you want.”

Gabe waved a hand at her. “Nah, I know your partner in there isn’t my biggest fan. I don’t want to cause any trouble in paradise.”

“Anders isn’t a savage. He is capable of being civil, most of the time.”

He shook his head. “I really should be going if I want to get back before dark, anyway. I heard there have been some shifty characters seen lurking about the countryside in the past couple of days, so being out past dark probably isn’t a great idea.” He started toward the barn, where his horse and pack were safely stowed. 

She felt like she should say something. The air between them was decidedly tense after her rejection of his plan. “Gabe, I—” Natalie was interrupted by the sound of voices in the woods. 

Her heart leapt into her throat. The last time they had entertained unexpected visitors had ended poorly, an experience she was not keen to repeat. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” she said absently to Gabe as she turned to make for the cottage. “Anders!” she called. When she didn’t hear him, she ran for the doorway and into the house. “Anders!” she yelled. 

He came out of his rooms, staff in hand and already blazing with magic. “What, what’s wrong? Is it that damn carpenter?”

She shook her head, her face narrow and dark. “There is someone coming. I heard voices on the path from Wycome. Not coming from the valley.”

His face closed down immediately. “Get your staff and meet me outside.” 

They stood in the yard, two mages presenting a united front against whoever was coming. Gabe, it seemed, had wisely made himself scarce after her dismissal. The voices were coming louder now, the opposite direction from where the Dalish made their home. Visitors from Wycome. 

_ Dear lord, please don’t let them be from Tevinter. _

“What do we do if it’s another magister looking for his lost property?” she asked, her knuckles white around her staff’s handle.

“We don’t let them have the chance to come back later,” Anders replied, his face dark as a thunderstorm.

She swallowed reflexively, not wanting to consider needing to kill again. To face the possibility of losing herself again.

As the voices reached a crescendo, she realized that she knew them. Knew the song they were singing. Taking a step forward, she almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Anders grabbed her by the arm. “Natalie?”

“It’s okay,” she said, shaking his arm away. “It’s okay.”

And when the huge horns finally broke through the leaves, she sprinted toward the trees. “Bull!”

The huge Qunari caught her as she flung herself into his arms. “Whoa there. Now that’s what I call a welcome!”

“Bull, what you doing here?” She looked past his massive shoulder at the figures behind him. Grinning, she took in the familiar armored form of her old sparring partners. Krem grinned back at her. “And the Chargers!”

Bull set her on her feet and looked down at her, his heavy brow dropping over his eye. “Have you heard from the boss lately?”

“A couple of weeks ago, why?”

“Everything’s gone to shit. They’ve called an Exalted Council at the Winter Palace, there’s talk of dismantling the Inquisiton.”

Her eyes widened. “What?” The word came out soft, barely more than breath.

Bull nodded once in confirmation. “Boss sent me here to bring you to Val Royeaux. He needs your help.”

“Hale wants me to come to Val Royeaux? I don’t know what kind of help I am when it comes to politics.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my saying, I think it's more for moral support than actual help.” Bull shrugged, a slight smile on his lips. “And I think he wants someone on his arm to keep from getting too many marriage proposals this time.”

Natalie didn’t know what to think, but she knew what she owed Hale. It was an easy decision. “Of course, I’ll go. When do we need to leave?”

“Sooner the better.”

She nodded, turning to look at Anders over her shoulder. “Let me settle some things here and I will pack a bag.”

So much for the quiet life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You GUYS. I'm feeling so much love from the last couple of chapters. <3 I'm slowly answering the comments but work has been crazy! Thank all of you so much for reading!


	52. Pretty Woman

She hated sea travel. She hated sea travel so much that she would gladly set fire to this godforsaken ship and drown if it meant that the nausea would end. Eight days of seasickness was more than one body could handle. Surely, she would die. This would kill her.

Natalie hugged the wide, wooden railing, closing her eyes and letting the swiftly blowing sea air wash over her overheated face in a cool wave. Her stomach roiled as the ship lurched, fighting the rolling waves of the Waking Sea. Mouth watering at the back of her teeth, she swallowed reflexively and prayed for death.

 _Why didn’t I stay home? Why didn’t I stay in the forest with Anders? My stomach would still be right side out if I had just stayed at home._ The words were a litany of misery in her mind as what little breakfast she had struggled down threatened to come back up.

A huge hand came down on her back, more gentle than she assumed Iron Bull was capable of. Of course, there were a lot of surprising things about the Qunari. “Okay there, little healer?”

“Kill me,” Natalie muttered, her words muffled against the railing.

The big hand rubbed a small circle. “I think the boss would have something to say about that. It seems like he probably wanted me to deliver you to him alive.”

With a groan, she peeled an eye open and looked up at him. Bull wore a smile he was trying to hide on his face. Clearly, her current state was _amusing_. “Deliver me. It makes me sound like a sack of potatoes.”

“You kind of look like a sack of potatoes at the moment.”

Natalie managed to open her second eye to give him her best scathing glare. “Did you come here just to tease me?”

“No, I came here to tell you that we’ll be in Val Royeaux in an hour.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. “Don’t joke with me. My stomach can’t handle it right now.”

“You can choose not to believe it, but that won’t make it any more a lie.”

She made a move to stand, her legs quivering beneath her after so long laying against the railing. “Oh, thank god. I don’t think I could take much more of this. Humans weren’t meant to live on water.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have better sea legs. You would think the waves would be similar to the weird shit that goes on in the Fade.”

Rolling her eyes, she tested her wobbling legs, too weary to react as she normally would. “Jesus, does everyone know now?”

Iron Bull chuckled. “Thanks for the confirmation. And no, I didn’t know. I was guessing.”

“Well, glad I could prove how smart you are, then,” she replied, with a sigh.

He shrugged his big shoulders, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Not smart, observant. You forget I’ve seen you light up and go all strange. It wasn’t hard to figure you’ve got a passenger in there.”

She waved a weary hand in his direction. “Same difference.” He wasn’t strictly correct, but she would let him think he was.

“Now go pack so we can get off this boat and into all the free ale waiting for us on the other end.” Bull scooted her toward the stairs, landing a sharp swat on her bottom.

Too shocked to be angry, Natalie yelped at the feel of his big palm on her backside. She had to admit, the past month was more action than she had seen in the past two years.

“I’m going!” she huffed.

“Then move!”

Barely an hour later, she found herself once again at the railing of a ship watching a city come into view. Val Royeaux was a very different sight than Wycome. Wycome was warm and alive. Val Royeaux looked like a cold, white marble nightmare. Despite its obvious wealth, she found she had a certain distaste for its ostentatious architecture, by far preferring the simple, homey, albeit messy, sight of cracked plaster and riotous greenery. Even the sight of the too-clean docks left her feeling unsettled. 

It seemed odd that this city of spotless stone and richly dressed citizens existed in the same country as Sahrnia, and it made her dislike the Orlesian nobility even more. They sat in their ivory towers while the poor classes starved and their Empress slaughtered elves by the hundreds. Not to mention those ridiculous masks, and how quick they were to grasp on to a piece of gossip and run with it. Petty. Petty and silly. That’s how she viewed them.

Such thoughts didn’t bode well for this Exalted Council. Suddenly, she was grateful for the years spent hidden away in gardens and infirmaries while at Skyhold.

Natalie took a breath and hoisted her pack onto her shoulder. Scanning the dock, she could see a familiar head of silvery white hair. Her heart pounded. She already wanted off this boat, but now she needed it even more. _Hale!_ Rising onto her toes, she waved her arm furiously over her head, an idiotic grin plastered on her face. In the distance, she could see his answering wave.

When was this boat going to dock? Why was it going so _slow?_ She found herself bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxious to be on shore and hugging the shit out of her best friend, whether he liked it or not.

But he would. Because it was Hale.

Finally, the boat rocked lightly as it met the dock. Natalie was waiting at the top of the gangplank as they lowered it, staring into the bright green eyes of Hale on the other side of the water. He was grinning, but his face looked thinner with dark circles under his eyes. Something was going on. Something she intended to ask about.

The gangplank hardly met the dock before Natalie was off, sprinting downward and into the arms of the elf who was waiting for her.

“Hale!” she shouted, dropping her pack and throwing herself at him with uncontrolled enthusiasm.

“Nat!” Hale’s arms came around her and swept her feet off the ground as he swung her back and forth, crushing her ribs with a tight squeeze.

They embraced for long moments, her face in the crook of his neck and his buried in the wealth of her hair. The scent of pine and the sweet, nutty oil he used to condition his leather armor filled her nose like a homecoming. God, she had missed him.

“How was your trip?” he asked, finally giving her ribcage a break.

“Horrible. Thankfully, I didn’t see much of it with my head over the railing the entire time.”

He winced. “Ouch. Sea travel still doesn’t agree with you?”

“It definitely doesn’t. I won’t be looking forward to the journey back.”

“Boss!” Bull called as he exited the ship with Krem behind him, the rest of the Chargers trickling off to god-knows-where. Natalie assumed their job was done, for the moment.

“Bull! Great to see you.” Hale clapped the big mercenary on the shoulder as he came near. “I see you got my girl here in one piece, even if she is a little green.”

“Sure did, although I thought she might fall overboard at one point.” Bull gave her a wink with his unpatched eye before turning back to Hale. “You good?”

“I’ll meet you at the Winter Palace.”

“Sounds good, boss. I’ll be there when you need me.”

Hale turned to study her as the Iron Bull made his way down the docks and disappeared around a corner. His eyes were taking in every detail, from the hair on her head to her scuffed leather boots. “You look good. Different. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Do I? Honestly, I feel kind of different.” She looped an arm around his waist as he picked up her pack and steered to toward the city. “It’s good though. I feel good.”

Hale grinned down at her. “I’m glad.” Up close, she could see the strain in his face, in the lines around his eyes. His skin was a little more pale than usual, a little grayer. He looked almost like he was in pain.

“Hale, are you okay?” Maybe he would tell her, maybe he wouldn’t. But she had to ask.

He looked down at her, one snowy eyebrow raised. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you look like shit. Have you slept like, at all in the last month? Or the last year?”

Hale’s answering laugh was sharp and dry. “Sleep? I’d say that’s been—how long have I had this mark? Oh, upwards of three years now.”

“If something is bothering you, let me help. I’m a healer, Hale. It’s my job.”

His face was dark as they entered the marketplace. “I don’t think you could help with this.”

Alarm bells began to ring in her head at his words. “Is it the mark? Does it hurt again? Let me see it.” It was only then that Natalie realized he was wearing gloves, long ones. Ones that covered his hands and wrists and ran below his shirtsleeves.

The arm fell from around her shoulders. “Leave it, Nat. I’m fine.” He turned to her with a smile, a fake one that didn’t reach his eyes. She had seen enough of his real ones to know the difference. “Plus, we don’t have time. I have a surprise for you.”

With narrowed eyes full of warning, she stared him down. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

His only answer was a grin. A real one this time.

The surprise turned out to be Josephine. Well, Josephine and an Orlesian _couturière_ who promptly took Natalie back to a private dressing room and stripped her clear down to her skivvies. It would have been less humiliating, had Josephine and Hale not insisted on joining. Josephine for her expert opinion, and Hale because “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Natalie was not usually terribly concerned with modesty, but the addition of the dressmaker’s assistant, and a third girl who was taking notes as the terrifying Orlesian woman snapped out orders, left her feeling exposed in a way she hadn’t in a long time. She stood there, mostly naked and freezing, for the better part of an hour while they poked and prodded, measured and remeasured, and asked everyone in the room _except_ Natalie their opinion.

It was her understanding that she was to be outfitted as if she were Hale’s, what—wife? Mistress? Courtesan? They spoke in such rapid fire with such heavy accents that Natalie had trouble following. But she was aware that clothing of some sort was being commissioned for her.

Josephine produced swatches of some kind of red material that they held up to bolt after bolt of fabric. Any time Natalie dared open her mouth to voice an opinion, she found herself railroaded. Finally, she resolved to stand there like a witless doll and let them dress her any way they liked.

It’s not like it really mattered, anyway.

At the end of it all, she found herself feeling distinctly faint. In the eight days she had spent aboard that godforsaken ship, she had eaten little and retched often. Her stomach was empty and rumbling, apparently much happier now that it was on dry land.

Finally, the dressmaker provided her with a silken robe to wear while she and her assistants swanned off to god-knows-where to do god-knows-what. Natalie covered her goose-pimpled flesh and flopped down next to Hale on one of the plush, velvet sofas that lined the dressing room. With a sigh, her head hit his shoulder. “When you say surprise, generally people assume that it’s something they will enjoy.”

“You’re not having fun?” Even without looking at his face, he could tell he was smiling. His voice held a distinct tone of amusement.

“Oh, it’s fun. It’s fun like a hole in my head is fun.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to look amazing when it’s all over.”

She adjusted her cheek on Hale’s shoulder so she could look up at him and found him smiling down on her. “You think?”

“I know.” With a smile, she balled her fist and walloped him in the bicep. Hale let out a cry and rubbed his arm with an exaggerated pout. “What was that for?”

“For not saying I already look amazing.”

“Nat, you look haggard, and you know it.”

A great rolling laugh burst from her throat. “Oh, I know. But so do you.”

“We’ll look haggard together now and then knock everyone dead with how utterly gorgeous we are tomorrow.” Hale chuckled, the smile pulling his tired features into some semblance of his usual sparkling humor.

“Of course we will.”

They were interrupted by the return of Josephine and the dressmaker.

“Mistress Brooks, are you ready?” Josephine’s eyes glinted as the assistants returned, their arms full of a rainbow of rich fabrics.

Natalie had a sudden feeling of vertigo as she stared at them all.

_Oh shit, they’re going to Pretty Woman me._

They were. And they did.

 

* * *

 

She and Hale stayed up far too late that night, swapping stories into the small hours of the morning. Beyond the occasional letter back and forth, they had not seen each other in nearly a year. Ever since he dropped Anders and a cottage in the Free Marches on her and departed for parts unknown. They had so much to catch up on.

The guest room in the Orlesian hotel Josephine booked for them to stay in that first night was huge and comfortable. It featured the biggest bed Natalie had ever seen in her life, even larger than the one in Hale’s room at Skyhold. Food was ordered and brought to their little sanctuary, shared and enjoyed in the center of the white coverlet on that huge bed. They sat. They ate. And they talked.

They spoke of the Deep Roads and of Skyhold. Of slaves and medicines. Of the inevitable passing of the months, and the responsibilities that had kept them apart for so many of them. It felt like not a day had gone by to separate them. Natalie bloomed beneath his easy attention, and she could see the stress ease from his shoulders.

Anders was a topic of hot conversation. Hale teased her mercilessly until Natalie grudgingly admitted to the night by the river with heated cheeks and awkward laughter, much to Hale’s amusement. He called her a ‘cheeky little tart’ and then congratulated her on finally getting over her broken heart. If only he knew how that tryst had ended.

But maybe he was right. The memories were softer, hazier. They didn’t bring as much pain as they did before. Maybe it _was_ healing. She knew still loved Solas, and she missed him, though maybe she always would. Still, she wondered what it may have been like if he had stayed. But life was moving on, however, and she was finally moving with it.

Perhaps she would finally unpack that last box when she returned home.

They fell asleep amidst laughter and dishes, enjoying the simple comfort of the other’s presence.

The sun rose far too early the next morning, or at least it felt that way when a team of women barged into the room at the crack of dawn. Hale’s grumbling voice underscored the furious chatter that suddenly filled the room as they threw back the bed curtains and let the bright light of the first morning sun directly into their eyes. Hale rubbed his eyes like a small child and burrowed his head under the thick comforter.

Natalie was not so lucky.

“Up! Come now, we haven’t much time!” one of the of the women said in a stern voice.

She groaned, a throaty sound that rumbled from deep in her chest, as she was pulled from the bed and forced into the adjoining dressing room.

It was, perhaps, the worst possible way to wake up, she thought as she was forced into a bath. While the water was heavenly on her tired body, and the sweet scent of vanilla and rose water wafted thick in the air, being naked in front of several strange women was a new and unsettling experience. As she soaked, they scrubbed and prodded and polished and buffed. One of them clucked furiously at the state of her nails, dirty and ragged from months of gardening and physical labor. They fretted over the glaring pink scar on her chest. Tongues wagged over her long, tangled, likely frizzy, hair.

It was humiliating, and Natalie wanted to run. In the end, she allowed them to do their worst. The Orlesians were very judgmental about appearances, and she knew hers was neglected. She wanted to make Hale proud.

So, she put up with it. She let them fuss. Let them slather her with scented lotions and oils. Let them polish her nails until they shone and paint her face with colored powder and shining gloss. She even allowed two of them to spend over an hour drying and styling her long hair into a swirling, braided loop around her head. Undergarments came next, so soft and silky they whispered on her skin until the uncomfortable addition of a long corset.

At that revelation, she nearly balked. A corset? _Oh hell no._

“Why do I need to wear that thing?” she snapped.

“You must, the dress will not lay right without it!” they answered.

Her teeth gritted together, she acquiesced, and found herself bound and gasping for breath in minutes. By the time they had her dressed, she was cranky. Cranky and _hungry._ And entirely unsure she would be able to eat anything at all in this getup.

The assistants guided her to a mirror where she stood open-mouthed at the sight before her. She barely recognized the woman standing there. A regal figure stood in the reflection, proud and resplendent in a gown of rich black velvet with shimmering netting draping over it. The wide neckline trimmed in glittering leaves of burnished gold left white shoulders bare before the sheer net covered her arms. Soft curves were clearly defined by the rich fabric, hugging her hips before swirling like a cloud around her legs. Wide eyes were smoked in gray powder, her lips glistening, a tall spray of deep black feathers and golden leaves tucked into the dark curls and braids piled artfully on her head.

This couldn’t be her. She didn’t look like this person in the mirror. This woman looked proud, strong. Powerful.

She felt powerful.

She felt like she could crush the world beneath her shoe.

Her flat, sensible shoe. Her one battle worth fighting because she would be damned if she was going to have pinched toes and crushed lungs on the same day.

With a last predatory smile to the woman in the looking glass, Natalie waltzed into the bedroom with a river of black trailing her. Hale was fully dressed in a red velvet coat, a golden sash slashing across his chest. The badge of the Inquisition was pinned boldly to the breast of his slim-fitting coat. His long hair hung like moonlight down his back, braided back on one side to frame his elegant, pointed ear. A statement in and of itself. Long black gloves covered his hands.

At her entrance, he looked up. His eyes widened for a moment before a feline grin crossed his face. “Natalie, you look beautiful.”

“So do you, Inquisitor.”

“Well, obviously.” He held his elbow out to her. “Shall we go and take the Winter Palace by storm?”

Her teeth flashed as she shot him a knowing smile. “Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this chapter is a transition, but its a necessary one. Think of it as the calm before the storm. ;) 
> 
> I split Trespasser into 2 chapters. So, you will get all of it next week.
> 
> However, after next week we are officially post-canon. I do have a plan (famous last words) but I want to make sure I'm doing it right, so the updates might slow to one a week rather than two. Maybe, maybe not. I'm just going to take it as it comes.


	53. You're Somebody Else

The Winter Palace sat like a glittering jewel amidst the mountains of Orlais. It was, as Hale tried to explain to her, a faded copy of what was once a great feat of Elven architecture. Halamshiral, the crown jewel of the once proud elves of the Dales. From what she remembered of his people's history, the very idea had to be reprehensible to Hale. It was no wonder he spat the words like he was putting out a fire.

As they alighted the carriage at the gate, Hale looked down at her with a rueful smile, tucking her arm in his. “Sorry about this.”

Natalie shrugged. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

All she got was a swift bark of laughter in reply.

Josephine met them at the gates, escorting them into the grounds with a pained expression. If there was ever an occasion that Natalie would not be surprised to see her with a hair out of place, it would be now. But of course, she was immaculate as usual. She gave the two of them an assessing look, her eyes traveling slowly from head to toe. Apparently satisfied that they were not going to embarrass themselves with a slovenly appearance, she gave them a curt nod. “Inquisitor, the delegations from Orlais and Fereldan are already here. You will find Arl Teagan—”

She continued, but Natalie couldn’t hear her over the roar of blood in her ears. The crowd were all staring at them, eyes glittering rabid and hungry behind their masks. It was as if they were waiting for the two of them to do something outlandish. Natalie straightened her spine, striding at Hale’s elbow at her full height, chin high and looking down her nose at them. If they thought their tittering was going to intimidate her, they had another thing coming.

“Arl Teagan will be the one of most importance. Fereldan means to see the Inquisition disbanded, claiming we are a potential threat on their borders. Empress Celene is in no hurry to lose our support, but it is likely that they will make a bid for us to become another arm of the Chantry.”

“Thank you, Josephine. You have done an admirable job preparing everything I need to know.”

“Just _take your time_ , Inquisitor. Divine Victoria will delay the beginning of the proceedings for as long as she can. Reach out to our allies, and please, do not make any rash decisions.”

Hale grinned at Josephine. “I promise to be good.”

Josephine’s mouth twisted up at the corner. With a pat on his arm, she let out a small laugh and turned to walk away. “You forget that I’ve heard that one before.”

His snicker made Natalie press her lips together to keep herself from following suit. She was determined to be dignified. But it was so hard when Hale was standing beside her giggling like a child. She felt the snort start in her chest, but she stopped it. _I said dignified, Nat!_

“Shall we, asa’ma’lin?” Hale smoothed his face into a mask of perfect decorum, but she could see mischief lurking in his eyes.

Her heart warmed in her chest at his words. There weren’t many elven words she knew, but she knew that one, courtesy of her time with his family. _Sister._ “After you, isa’ma’lin .” _Brother._

The words were truth, not false promises or flattery from either of them. In every way that mattered, he was her brother. She was quite sure that she would die to protect him if it ever came to that. It was why she was here, why she let herself be trussed in this corset up like a Thanksgiving turkey with her goods on display and paraded in front of all these people. She did so proudly. For her brother.

With pride putting a new spring in her step, they ambled through the gardens, arm in arm. He of the charming words and she of the serene smile, they took the crowd by storm.

Eventually, they began to see familiar faces in the sea of masks. Varric, attended by a harried human man, greeted them warmly and presented Hale with an estate in Kirkwall. Cullen, rubbing the belly of a huge dog with a chagrined smile. Sera, asking if Hale wanted to become a Red Jenny when this was all over. Cole, watching the bard Maryden play on the street with her eyes full of Krem’s shy smile and handsome face. Vivienne, her presence as imposing as ever. Blackwall, or rather, Thom. Cassandra. And Bull and the Chargers, haunting the tavern as per usual, celebrating the big guy’s birthday. They were assured that everyone was here, that they would see them all at some point.

They all had come to support Hale. To support the Inquisition.

Well, all but one. His absence was glaring.

It felt strange to be with everyone again after so long. Some of them, like Sera, Natalie had never felt close to, but there was a certain air of camaraderie now. A shared feeling as they stood in defense of all they had spent years working for, bleeding for.

“A toast. To the Inquisitor!” Bull’s booming voice broke through the excited chatter, a massive mug of Halamshiral’s finest raised high above his head.

“To The Iron Bull!” Hale returned.

A cheer went up through the crowd of them as mugs were raised and compliments were paid. Hale’s face was pink, his eyes gleaming as he downed his foaming mug of ale in one go, much to Bull’s delight. The Qunari slapped him hard on the back as Hale finished, gasping for air at the end.

Hale grinned, happier than Natalie had seen him since she returned. He set his mug down on the table with a resounding smack. It was brief, but for a short moment she saw the easy smile on his face falter. His hand flex beneath his gloves.

His marked hand.

Her breath caught, her arm stilling with her mug halfway to her lips. There was something wrong. The mark was definitely bothering him in some way. She studied his movements carefully with a narrow, practiced eye. The clenched jaw. The way he held the arm closer to his body, like he was protecting it. It was slight, but the signs were unmistakable.

It was all the confirmation she needed. She was going to get that glove off and see what was going on whether he liked it or not.

He stood, dabbing his mouth off with the corner of a nearby napkin. “Well, duty calls. Thanks for the liquid courage.” His words were clipped, abrupt.

His lanky form made for the door with a wave to those still behind him. Natalie got to her feet and began to follow. “Do you need me to come?”

He shook his head, his slight smile not reaching his eyes anymore. “No, you stay. I’m sure my next meeting will be boring.” His voice sounded thin and stretched.

“Isn’t that what you asked me to come for? To support you in all this?”

Again, he simply shook his head. “It’s alright.”

“Hale—” She began to step forward but stopped herself. He had not reacted well yesterday when she brought it up, but she was more certain than ever that he was in pain. “Hale, let me see your hand.”

His jaw clenched tighter than ever, his arm stiff at his side. “Leave it, Natalie.”

“Hale.”

“Natalie.”

They faced off, both of them glaring at the other. Apparently, stubborn men not wanting to go to the doctor was not a phenomenon known only to Earth. “Do I need to cut it off to get you to let me look at it? Do you need to be bleeding out?”

“Fenhedis!” he exclaimed. His face was flushed and his eyes flashing, he looked truly angry at her for the first time she could remember. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Natalie crossed her arms, unable to stop her head from shaking at him. “Fine, go then, but make sure you come and let me see it _before_ it gets to a point of no return.” Turning with a huff, she stormed away back into the tavern.

If he wanted to be stubborn, he could be stubborn. It was his choice, but it didn’t mean she had to support it.

Sitting back in her place at the table between Bull and Varric, she felt slightly numb as the conversation flowed around her. She could feel a cold weight in her stomach. Dread. Something terrible was about to happen. She could feel it. A nagging sensation crawled beneath her skin.

After a short while, the anxiety became too much for her to handle. Unable to sit any longer, she smiled at the boisterous group and took her leave, excusing herself with promises to come back for another drink later. They toasted to her as she left, their faces red with drink. She was quite certain at least a couple of them were halfway to drunk already.

Her feet crunched against the neat gravel pathways as she picked a direction at random and wandered away. There was no rhyme or reason to where she was going, her only goal was to find a solitary place to have some time to herself. The crowd passed her by, hardly taking notice of the distracted woman in black in their midst. She didn’t matter to any of them. She was no Inquisitor or Advisor, not really even a part of the so-called “Inner Circle”. She was just a healer. A no one. And she was grateful for it.

The trickle of water pulled her from her thoughts. A strangled sigh escaped from her throat, hampered by the crushing weight of the corset on her rib cage. Suddenly, she wished to be home. To her surprise, her first thought was Wycome. The cottage in the woods. Her garden. Daisy. The chickens. Even Anders. Not Chicago. Not Earth. Not even Skyhold. With a start, it dawned on her that the Free Marches were now home to her. Maybe, if the Inquisition was disbanded, she could convince Hale to come home with her. With him there, she would have everything she needed.

With another thin sigh, she continued down the path, seeking a dark corner, a secluded alcove. Somewhere, _anywhere_ that she could escape for a moment. The sick feeling of unease was still roiling in her gut as she spotted a darkened hallway off to one side. Relief surged through her, the lure of peace and quiet overwhelming.

It was a small hallway, not too wide or welcoming that it would invite unwanted visitors. For a moment, she wondered if she should be here, but she shrugged the question off. No one had yelled at her to get out yet, so she would keep going until someone did. With her mind off in the clouds, she wandered a little farther. Perhaps there would be a bench or something that she could sit on for a while.

By the time she heard the muffled sound of moans, it was already too late. Natalie turned the corner and the two figures flashed into view only an instant before she registered that she was really hearing what she thought she was.

Moans. Whispered words. The unmistakable metallic jingle of buckles being undone. Arms twined around each other as the two men stood locked in a passionate embrace. Long white hair falling forward over one face as the other, dark and elegant, traveled downward, his hands and lips falling to the rapidly opening laces on the breeches before him.

With a strangled cry, Natalie jumped back, her breath caught in her throat and her mind racing.

Hale. Hale and… _Dorian?_

“Ohmygodimsosorry.” The words came out in a rush as the two men whipped their heads around to look at her, their eyes wide.

“Natalie?” Hale asked, startled. His face was flushed, his eyes hazy.

Her cheeks blazed with heat. She knew she should say something. Or do something. Or _leave._ But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as the three of them stared at each other. Finally, her throat opened and she felt the words come vomiting out. “Yikes. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll just be—uh, out there,” she pointed vaguely back the way she came, “So you two—yeah, carry on.” Natalie spun on the ball of her foot and retreated with utmost speed, hearing the faint sound of her name being called from behind her.

“Natalie! Wait!”

She was sure she looked horrified as she spilled back out of the alley, not at all watching where she was going. All she could think of what how much she wanted to escape _._ _God, how embarrassing!_ And who would have thought that Hale and Dorian were involved? How had she never realized it? She should have seen this coming, right? Not that she thought there was anything wrong with it. Thinking on it, the two of them were perfect for each other. Both gorgeous, both powerful, and both in serious need of someone to love them. She only felt sorry for the people around them, herself included, who would be subject to their combined wit.

The distraction was so great, she did not see the person coming right at her. With a crash, she hit them and bounced, falling to the ground with a resounding thud. Natalie stared, shocked, at the ground, her brain not having the power to form words.

_Great._

“Oh, I am so sorry, mistress. Please, let me help you up.” A soft voice broke through her stupor just as a hand appeared before her face.

Looking up, Natalie saw the face of an elven woman in simple garb, her auburn hair pulled away from her masked face. Her attire was too plain to be one of the attendees. A servant, perhaps. There was something familiar about her, but Natalie couldn’t put her finger on it. Accepting the proffered hand, Natalie let the other woman help her to her feet.

“I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Natalie offered.

“It is I who am to blame.” The woman bowed her head in deference, something that made Natalie feel intensely uncomfortable. “Oh! You seem to have torn your dress. Please, allow me to fix it.”

Natalie looked down to see a tiny flap of the sparkling gauze on her skirt hanging down. “Would you look at that. Don’t worry about it. I can do it myself.” She couldn’t help but think that Josephine was going to kill her for ruining the beautiful gown.

“Please, I insist.” The elven servant gestured for Natalie to follow, standing there staring as she waited for Natalie to follow her instruction.

It seemed there was no help for it. She just couldn’t catch a break, could she? “Alright. Lead the way.”

The servant led her through the gardens and past the tavern, into a small room with a desk and a few bookshelves. “Please sit. I will repair it for you.”

As she took a seat, the elven woman pulled a small sewing kit from her apron pocket and knelt down to work. Her hands moved gracefully over the filmy fabric, the tear slowly mending.

Natalie felt like she should say something, but she was too overwhelmed to make the words come. This situation was bonkers. Hale’s hand, the council, finding Dorian on his knees in front of Hale in a dark alley, falling over like an idiot and ripping her damn dress. What the hell else was going to happen?

Her answer came only moments later when the door burst open and a massive form stumbled into the room. He swayed precariously back and forth for a moment before careening headlong into the opposite wall and collapsing, a pool of blood rapidly collecting around him.

_What the fuck._

Great. This was just great.

Natalie sighed. _I guess I should tell Hale._ She only hoped he was fully dressed this time.

 

* * *

 

It got so much better.

She burst out of the eluvian behind Hale, her skin still crawling from the feeling of traveling through the mirrors. Dorian, Bull, and Cole were hot on their heels. For a day that had begun with parties and ballgowns, she had not foreseen it ending with dozens of Eluvians, flooding the Deep Roads, an ancient destroyed library, and a hundred pissed off Qunari trying to rip her a new one.

Natalie was _sore,_ and _tired._ Her armor, which Josephine had the foresight to bring with them for their stay at the Winter Palace, was splattered with blood and water and things that she did not even want to consider. She could feel the stinging burn of a long cut down her cheek, the slow drip of blood, the pull of it drying on her skin. When Hale asked her to come help him with the Exalted Council, this was not exactly the kind of help she thought he meant. Of course, no one could have anticipated a Qunari plot to assassinate the heads of every major nation in southern Thedas.

And Hale had not been able to look at her straight since her discovery of him and Dorian in the alcove. So that was fun.

She sighed as she shrugged off the lingering tingles in her skin from their unorthodox method of travel. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could go back to her garden and her quiet cottage in the woods.

More Qunari rushed them before they had much chance to get farther out of the Eluvian, the two rogues and their very own Qunari Reaver surged into the fight without hesitation. Even through the chaos, Natalie could tell Hale was still favoring his hand. She hung back, guarding their backs as Dorian animated their dead foes in a ghastly parody of life.

One more fight, over almost before it started. It was routine at this point. There had been many of them as they traversed the Eluvian network. The party was weary and fed up. Ready to be done with all this.

They limped toward the Darvaarad, Hale’s face a block of solid ice as he struggled to hide whatever was beneath that glove. She could feel the waves of heated energy billowing off of him. After the past hours, she was now certain it was the Anchor. Something was feeding into it, causing it to go haywire. As surreptitiously as she could manage, she had been feeding healing magic into Hale as she fought at his back. It was the best she could do since he refused to let her see it. It was the reason she had forced him to allow her to tag along. If he wouldn’t let her take care of it at the Winter Palace, she wanted to be there to keep him from allowing it to kill him later. For now, it seemed to be stable, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be that way for long.

As they neared the massive Keep, Hale held out his hand to signal them to stop. Putting a finger to his lips, he gestured upward to the patrols and then to himself. With no further warning, he melded into the shadows. A shiver ran down her spine. She would never get used to watching him just _disappear_ like that.

Time stretched as they waited on him. Her heart pounded in her throat. Why hadn’t they followed him? What if he got himself killed?

That fear proved unfounded when Hale returned unharmed after only a few minutes and nodded to them all. “Clear. There is a door with some kind of massive lock and another tower in the courtyard we should look at.”

They split up. Bull and Cole crept up the stairs toward the doors to make sure no more Qunari came out that way. Hale, Natalie and Dorian moved toward the tower to put down any lingering resistance there. It was slow going, creeping across the courtyard, but eventually they made it.

Hale pulled a long key from his pocket and unlocked the lower door. “Looted it from one of the guards.” He shrugged as the lock clicked and the door creaked open.

Inside the room, the lights were low but she could see the outline of old, iron prison doors. Objects glinted in the dimness, forgotten treasures piled in the dusty cells. A huge wolf statue sat near the base of a ladder, its stone eyes finding her across the room and striking her in the chest. Another statue of the elven god Fen’Harel, not the first they had seen.

Over the past hours, she watched as Hale uncovered layer after layer of his people’s history. His face had twisted in confusion as each new piece fell into place. Fen’Harel was the god of misfortune, god of chaos, the villain of his childhood stories. She could tell it troubled him, to hear that something he was told his whole life might not be true. That maybe Fen’Harel had been a liberator, an abolitionist. A freedom fighter. Maligned and smeared because he dared to stand against the powerful oppressors of his people.

“Is that an astrarium? How did they even get that here?” Dorian peered into one of the cells at the bulky contraption of metal joints and gears behind it.

“I have no idea, but it looks like they’ve been gathering these things from all over.” Hale replied.

“But to what purpose?” Dorian’s dark, intelligent eyes shone at them over his shoulder.

Hale shrugged, his eyes far away. “I wish I knew.”

Natalie cleared her throat. “There is an upstairs,” she said, indicating the ladder. “I’m going to see what’s up there.”

The rungs of the ladder were rough beneath her fingers as she climbed. Light spilled onto her face from the lit braziers above. She looked around her as she reached the top and pulled herself up. It was a workroom of some sort, filled with a desk covered in papers, more artifacts, and a partially excavated wall. Natalie wandered around, her hands finding the papers on the desk.

A scrap caught her eye.

_Excavated mural. Believed to be a self-portrait by Fen'Harel._

Looking up, she peered around the room, her eyes falling on the half-revealed painting on the wall next to the desk and her breath dying in her lungs.

The painting. No, the _fresco_ on the wall was eerily familiar. Its colors. Its lines. Its subject. The imagery of the looming wolf. The tiny falling triangles in a dark sky. The long-eared figure in a long cloak.

All of it.

Her heart pounded as she walked to it on shaking legs. No air left her lungs as her trembling fingers reached out to touch the sharp lines etched upon the wall.

It was the same. The same texture. The same colors imbued into the plaster and stone. The same brush strokes that made up the lines.

It could be a coincidence. It had to be. Fen’Harel lived thousands of years ago. He had to be dead by now.

Something they read earlier, in the shattered library, sprang to mind.

_“Beware the forms of Fen'Harel! The Dread Wolf comes in humble guises, a wanderer who knows much of the People and their spirits.”_

No. _No._

Natalie snatched her fingers away as if the wall had burned them. She stumbled, knocking into something behind her that fell with a crash.

How was it even _possible?_

The rushing howl of a freight train blasted in her mind as she stared in horror at the fresco.

Footsteps bounded up the ladder, Hale’s white head appeared over the floorboards. “Natalie? Are you okay?” He came to her side, Dorian not far behind.

She didn’t look at him, the sight before her too much for her to handle. With trembling fingers, she held out the scrap with the Ben-Hassrath note on it.

Hale’s brows wrinkled as he took it from her, his green eyes falling to the paper and then springing up to study the wall. He looked for long minutes, the creases in his face growing deeper as he made the connections she had made only moments before.

“Hale. Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“It can’t be. Maybe he just learned the technique somewhere.” Hale didn’t look at her, as dumbstruck by the mural as she was.

“I spent nine months sitting in that room staring at those murals. I watched him paint them,” Natalie’s voice shook as she spoke, “I think I would know his work if I saw it.”

“But—” His mouth hung open as he stared. All of a sudden, a change came over him. His face closed off, eyes going dark and dangerous. Without a word, he passed the scrap of paper to Dorian.

Dorian’s eyes scanned the paper. “Impossible,” he said, but the look in his eyes told a different story.

Hale’s jaw clenched shut. “If the Sentinels in the Temple of Mythal were able to survive, I’m sure others were as well.”

Dorian stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. “But that means—“

“Solas is Fen’Harel.” Natalie finished, the words falling like boulders.


	54. Shrike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...

Maybe Hale’s face  really did make dragons want to set him on  fire .

The words from one letter he had sent her months ago echoed in her mind as she ran full tilt cross the floor. Fire licked at her heels. Yelping, she threw up the somewhat dubious protection of a barrier. Barriers were good for many things, but dragon fire? She could only hope.

The sounds of battle echoed behind her. Metal on metal. Harsh battle cries. The sickening thud of flesh hitting the floor. And above all, the deafening roar of a very large, very pissed off dragon.

_ Why did I insist on coming? Holy shit! _

“ Natalie !  The lever ! Pull  the lever !” Hale’s voice shouted from somewhere within the room.

Her lungs burned. Thirty feet. Twenty-five feet. Twenty feet. With a lurch, Natalie drew in the Fade and _stepped_ the remaining distance to  the lever, her hands grasping it like a lifeline. It was huge and old, the metal worn from a thousand hands. 

Old . 

And rusted.

And  stuck .

Great.

Her arms strained as she yanked on it. It groaned and grumbled but stayed  stuck fast. The insistent tremble in the stone from the dragon’s stomping feet lit a fire in her blood.

“Now!” The words were even more frantic this time, underscored as they were by the unmistakable strangled cry of someone with a blade in their chest.

_ Goddamn this thing! _ Muscles trembling, she took a deep breath, her nostrils filling with the odor of blood and sulfur. With a heave, she threw her body weight at the lever. For a moment, she thought it may continue its stubborn refusal to budge, but it creaked and shifted.  Just an inch.

A loud thump came from behind her. She could feel the brush of something on her  back as she looked over her shoulder to find a dead Qunari at her feet and Bull winking at her,  just before he turned to dash  back into the fray with his axe held high above his head.

_ Shit, I need to get this done now!  _ With a battle cry of her own, Natalie bounced her weight down on it  one last time and, with a cry of relief, it gave at last. A great rattling filled  the room as  the heavy chains rolled in their channels and  the towering  iron gates fell, revealing the expanse of open air beyond.

Her ears swelled to bursting as the loudest roar yet, this  one of triumph rather than anger, struck through  the room . A powerful burst of wind left her stumbling away from the opening, falling flat on her back just as a colossal black form soared above her head and out into the wild blue yonder.

It was  strangely  quiet in the dragon’s aftermath as she lay on the ground, too shell-shocked to move. There were no more metallic clashes of blade and axe. No more fire. No more cries of adrenaline-fueled violence. Her ears rang as she stared at the stone ceiling high above her.

“Well, that’s one way to celebrate the end of a battle.” Dorian’s handsome, mustachioed face appeared above her, his  hand outstretched.

Taking a shuddering breath, she squeezed  her eyes shut. Everything that occurred today flashed in the darkness behind her eyelids. She was so tired, but it wasn’t over yet. She was going to sleep for a year once this was over. Opening  her eyes , she grasped Dorian’s  hand and allowed him to pull her up. “What the hell just happened?”

Dorian gave her a lopsided grin. “Enjoyed your first  dragon battle,  I see .”

“Aaaaataaaasheeeeeee!” Iron Bull’s booming voice broke the quiet. Natalie turned to look at him. He stood, exultant in the center of the room where the dragon was once chained. “Did you _see_ that?” He let out a loud whoop, swinging his axe to rest its handle over his shoulder.

“ I see he did,”  Natalie said, looking at  Dorian with a grin.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “He always gets  like this. Expect him to force you into drinking some of that atrocious  maraas-lok when this is all over.”

“ Maraas-lok ?”  Natalie looked at him, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Yes. It burns  like a fire in your throat and tastes even worse.”

“ Taarsidath -An  Haslaam !”  Bull bellowed. 

Natalie looked at Dorian. “What the heck is he saying?”

The mage let out a sigh. “You don’t want to know.”

Judging from the tone in which  Bull said it, she  really  did want to. He was so excited that  Natalie felt a grin spread across her face. She was so relieved by  the absence of dragons and murderous Qunari that she couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up her throat, joyful and free. 

“ Did you see that  _ dragon?  _ Did you see the way its tail swept them all off their feet?”  The noise that followed his shouted question could only be described as sexual. 

Natalie laughed harder, his excitement infectious. She looked around, her eyes seeking Hale. He stood off to one side, no smile or laughter on his face. In fact, he looked unusually solemn, almost angry. His eyes were fixed off in the distance, marked hand held to his chest like it was precious. 

“ Hale ?” Her voice carried to him, bringing his gaze to her. He said nothing, only gave her a terse nod. “ Hale , are you  alright ?”

“Writhing pain. It grows beneath the skin. I can’t let them worry. I must stay strong.” Cole’s soft words gave voice to her suspicions. 

His eyebrows  fell in severe angles, shadowing  his eyes . “I’m  f —  “

But the words were cut off by an explosion of green from his hand. Light bled through his heavy leather gloves, flaring brightly and crackling with intense power. Hale fell to his knees, an agonized cry biting out between his gritted teeth. 

“ Hale !” Natalie’s feet pounded the stone as she ran to him, falling beside him and placing a  hand on his back. She flooded him with a cool rush of sweet, healing magic.

Bull’s exuberant celebration ended and the shadows of their three companions fell on them. The green light faded, leaving its echo, and the pain written  plainly  on Hale’s  face as he clutched the limb to  his chest . 

“Hale,” she  said softly , “ let me see your  hand .”

His head hung, the braids he used to keep his hair from his  face while fighting falling over  his chest and arm in snowy ropes. His voice was a strangled mumble as he shrugged her  hand from his back. “I’m  fine .”

Her jaw stiffened. Stupid, stubborn man. “Hale, let me see it. You’re obviously not fine.”

“Natalie, leave it!” he snapped.

“No!  You’re killing yourself, you idiot!” she yelled. From this close, she could feel the sickening pulse of the power in his  hand in the air. It was  stronger than before, far  stronger .

“Amatus—” Dorian began, before Hale’s eyes spit fire at the  two of them .

“I said, it’s nothing.”

Taking a breath, she  made an effort to lower her voice. “Don’t be foolish, Hale.”

He glared at her, struggling to his feet. His posture was stiff, his balance teetering. When he went to take a step, his knees wobbled dangerously , threatening to drop his weight to  the floor once again. 

Not three steps later, the green light burst forth once more and he fell, his knee striking  the floor with a crack.  The mark blazed with uncontrolled power, she could feel it like a suffocating blanket falling across the room. It was a black hole, sucking in the surrounding energy. What was happening? Why was it acting this way? 

She walked to his side, kneeling beside him. As  the mark faded, she looked at his strained  face , a spike of fear in her brain. “ Please let me see it.  _ Please _ _.” _

Hale said nothing as his eyes rose to meet hers, red and weepy in his pale  face . Without a word, the fingers of his good  hand moved to grasp the leather  glove on its partner and peeled it away.

There was a quick rush of air as the thick glove was pulled free and then Natalie had to stifle her gasp. The mark, once only a green line in Hale’s palm, had grown. His hand was nearly fully colored, toxic green pulsing in his cracked and peeling skin. Blackened flesh surrounded the Anchor. His veins shimmered green and were clearly visible all down his arm nearly to his elbow. The tide of strange, ancient magic beneath his skin blazed off and on with an ominous light. 

Cole knelt beside them, his limpid eyes surveying Hale with sorrow. “It eats away at me, a little further every day. Unforgiving. Unyielding. Unstoppable. When will it end? I have to go on.”

“Hale.” His name was a breath of air from her lips as she reached out to him. Magic reached him first, and the shock of her mind meeting the maelstrom in his arm almost bowled her over. She reached out and prodded at its edges, but it repelled her. Immense power churned within it, far more than Hale’s body could hope to contain for long. Unfamiliar power, like nothing she had ever seen before. Immediately, her stomach sank.

It was killing him, of that she was sure. And there was  nothing she could do. 

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and let another rush of healing magic flow into his skin. Even if she could not contain the snowballing Anchor, maybe she could provide him a little relief. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?”  Hale’s voice was strained and thin, a shadow of his usual humor.

“ We need to go,” she replied. “ We need to get out of here and to someone who might  be able to  help.” Her first thought was the last person she wanted to see, but if she was right about who and what was behind all this — well, he kept the mark from killing Hale once, maybe he could do it again. And the Viddasala had made it clear it was he who she was after.

A vein in the side of Hale’s face pulsed as his jaw locked, eyes resolute as they met hers. He nodded. “Let’s go.”

Their progress was a whirlwind, a hurricane. A natural disaster that spread its death and destruction in a wide swath leaving only smoldering remains behind. As they fought their way through the  Eluvians , pursuing the Viddasala and her band of Qunari soldiers,  the mark continued to flare and burst. Twice, it knocked  Hale to the ground, the second time bowling  Dorian over as well . 

The mark took in more and more power, enough that  Hale had to stop and discharge it  just  to keep it from exploding.  Dorian kept a keen eye over him as he ran next to him. The mage was sticking close to his lover’s side, his face paler than usual and his brow  deeply  creased as he watched  Hale like he was a ticking time bomb. 

Their quest took on a harried energy as the Mark spiraled out of control, spurring them forward, making them fight harder and more brutally .  Natalie felt a familiar white haze descend over her vision, a disinterested detachment, as she tore through the Qunari beside the  rest of them . Each time it happened, she seemed to  retain more of herself. Not  Natalie . Not Mercy. Something new. More than either of them could be separately . A leash of healing power stayed  secured firmly to Hale’s back as she fed him with as much mana as she could spare. 

_ Hang on, Hale. Almost there. I hope. _

Where there  was remained a mystery, but the number of  Qunari was thinning and those that  remained fought with such a desperate energy  that  she could tell their ranks were flagging. 

At last, they stood before  the Viddasala and her leashed  saarebas with a massive  Eluvian shimmering behind her. The chained  Qunari mage stepped forward, his powerful form seeming to eat away at the air between them as he advanced. 

Natalie looked at  Hale . His red-rimmed  eyes stared back at her, then moved to the  Eluvian just as  the Viddasala slipped through it.  His face blanched even paler for a moment.

“We need to  go ,  Hale ,” she said in a soft voice.

He looked to her, his eyes unfocused and hazy. With a nod, he agreed, but then looked to the advancing enemy with worry written across the lines of his face. Guilt. He didn’t want to leave them to fight.

“We will cover you,  amatus . Just  go .” Dorian placed his hand on Hale’s shoulder and the two men  shared a long look that looked  suspiciously  like a goodbye.

Bull and Cole stood at Natalie’s side, all five of them facing the oncoming  saarebas in a united line. “We got this, boss,”  Bull said. “You  go take care of what needs to  be done .”

Time seemed to suspend for  a long moment as they all  shared a look of solidarity , and then chaos broke loose. The massive Qunari mage charged with a roar and the companions scattered, Dorian left, Cole right, and  Bull straight down the center. They hit their target with a fierce energy as the beast tried to fling them off.

“Hale!” Natalie called  urgently  as she started for the Eluvian, but his knees buckled.  _ Shit. _ Slinging his arm over her shoulders, she wrapped her own around his waist and leaned his weight onto her. “Come on, you can make it.”

His body was heavy against hers as they limped across the field as  quickly  as she could manage, pouring her mana into him to keep him upright. Hale, to his credit, tried. His feet shuffled beside hers, although his movements were sluggish and he stumbled. The Eluvian grew in her  vision .

So close . They were  so close .

A roar startled her, a huge  shape flying out of her peripheral  vision . For a moment, she thought  they were done for. Concentrating hard, she threw herself around  Hale and cast the strongest  barrier she could manage with  what was left of her energy.

The world  tilted as the  shape of the  saarebas grew, a menacing monster lunging at her and  Hale .

Hale stiffened beside her, his face  tilted to gaze at their enemy. “Drop the  barrier .”

“What?” she shouted, too loud in their little bubble.

“Just do it. Now!”

Trusting her friend, the  green film separating them from the saarebas dropped, and  the world was made of  green lightning and bursting energy so strong that her skin felt chapped and dry. The sharp scent of electricity and  petrichor burned her nostrils as a wave of power enveloped her. The towering Qunari sailed through  the air , burns appearing on his body. Hitting the ground several  feet away, he had no chance to recover before their three companions were on him. Pain-soaked cries filled  the air as Natalie tucked  Hale beneath her arm and limped the final  feet to the shimmering  Eluvian .

And  stepped through.

 

* * *

 

The cold sucking sensation that always accompanied  Eluvian travel pulled at her skin as she gripped  Hale and carried his tired and  quickly  flagging body through. He was a dead weight against her side as they  stepped out of the mirror and into a forest of  statues . Incredible  statues . Ones that looked so lifelike that she felt they could spring  toward her at any moment. It was unsettling, causing her stomach to churn as she hauled  Hale along  toward the hill before them.

Why were there  statues of Qunari in Elven ruins?  Statues of Qunari , dressed like those they had  just spent all this time fighting.  Qunari frozen with arms raised, and weapons drawn, as if in the middle of some battle.

_ What on earth… _

The first cold fingers of fear slid down her neck and beneath her armor. What was going on here?

Hale groaned, his knees wavering. 

“ Just a little further, I promise.” She kept her voice  soft and soothing , unsure if he could even hear her through his stupor. 

He was  obviously  in great pain, answering only in harsh groans and whimpers since his final outburst against Saarath. Natalie was positive that, were she to let go, he might fall to the ground and never rise again. A thin, tenuous stream of magic still flowed between them, but she could feel it shuddering as her well dried up.

Soon, she would have to stop or risk draining herself to the point of death.

There would be a choice  to make .

A terrible  one .

One she was prepared to make.

She  just  held onto the hope  that  they could reach whatever nebulous end existed at  the conclusion of this journey before she had to.

Voices echoed from somewhere up ahead. A harsh female  one , followed by the low rumble of a male  one . Natalie couldn’t  make out their words, but she could read the tone. Anger from  one side, dismissal from the other. Muscles strained as she fought against their failing strength and her diminishing power.

And then the ground leveled, and a flash  of blue filled her vision, and the voices went silent.

A golden vista lay at the crest of the hill. Bright sunlight warmed her face as she stumbled into its hazy embrace, Hale’s weight dragging her down. Her eyes were full  of blue sky and white clouds and a stunning backdrop of soaring ruins, almost heartbreaking in their beauty. She gasped for breath, her limbs shaking in exhaustion, but her lungs clear of  the scent of blood and death for the first time in hours.

On that  golden vista, dressed in gleaming  golden armor and clean gray fur that fluttered in the cool breeze, a figure walked toward a final Eluvian.

Her heart pounded, tears burning in her eyes as she struggled to keep them down

It was a familiar gait. One full of the  quiet confidence of a man who knew who he was.

She gasped, her lungs refusing to expand until she forced them to with a  quiet sob.

“Solas.”

Her weak voice carried across the distance, a thin string connecting  two souls. He stopped, pausing for what seemed like hours until he turned, his head  slowly  spinning until she could  see his  face . Her heart lurched in her chest.  Two years . For  two years she had been dreaming of that  face . 

A  face she never thought she would  see again.

This was too much. With Hale’s arm still draped around her neck, she heaved him forward.  Two feet. Three. Five. Ten. Until the Anchor flared once more and his weight bore her to the ground.

She looked up at his shining figure with burning  eyes , clutching her brother to her chest. “Help him. It’s killing him.”

“I know.” His brows furrowed.

The sound of velvet over steel caressed her skin as he spoke, and her pulse leapt in her throat as his  eyes lit with a blinding blue light. Hale sagged against her, the sucking pressure of the Anchor’s power  finally  quiet. His quiet moan of relief filled her with relief. 

“Hale, are you okay?” she asked, raising a hand to his face. 

He nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath. “Better.”

He was talking now, so that was a good sign. She patted his hair away from his face to look down at him, reassuring herself that he wasn’t going to keel over and die. He gave her a weak smile, squeezing her arm with his unmarked hand, before they both looked up at the figure above them.

“I suspect you  have questions .”

She shook her head,  momentarily  stunned by his words.  _ Questions _ _? _ He thought she must  have  _ questions _ _? _ A furious flame grew in her chest as her temper flared.  Of course she had  questions . Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you contact me for two years? What have you been doing?

_ Why wasn’t I  _ _ enough _ _ for you? _

She had a lot more than  _ questions _ _. _ She had anger and bitterness and regret.

But Hale answered for her. He shifted his weight away from her, rising to his feet. “Not really. The Qunari managed to answer a few of the most important ones for us.” He glared at Solas from where he stood hunched around his arm. “Although, on second thought, I do.” Hale straightened, his face pale, but no longer twisted in pain. “At what point were you going to tell me that you are Fen’Harel?”

“ Well done.”

Hale let out a dry laugh, weak and devoid of humor. “ Well , I have to admit I was hoping you  were going to deny that one.”

“How can I, when it is the truth?”

Natalie studied him as he spoke, still silent and unable to comprehend what he was saying. He looked so calm, as calm as he ever did. It was unfair that he should appear so unaffected when she was a whirlpool inside, her guts churning with too many emotions to name at once. She had the urge to sit on the ground and cry. The urge to use that last bit of her mana to fry him. But, more than anything, the urge to run to him.

No. It was the frying. Definitely going to fry him. 

Just the day before, she had thought she was over this. But she wasn’t.  Every minute she had  spent crying.  Spent staring at the walls in that goddamn rotunda.  Every soft smile and sweet word that had fallen from his lips. It all flooded back until her chest heaved and her blood thrummed in her ears.

“When were you going to tell _me?”_ The words were strangled, a twisting vine of tears and venom that bloomed to life between them. Natalie stumbled to her feet, closing the distance.

“Solas came first, it was only after I crossed them  that  they named me Fen’Harel. A name they thought to insult me with.” Then he looked at her and  his face softened, every line so  heartbreakingly  familiar to her, even after so much time. “What would you have had me say? That I am the great adversary of  Dalish mythology?”

“The truth. You could have told me the truth.” Her spine stiffened as she faced him.

His face wrinkled as his eyes darted to the floor.

“I would have understood. If you had just  told me —” She took a step toward him, her feet moving without her asking them to.

“And then you would carry the same burdens I do.”

“You carried all of mine. Isn’t it  _ my _ choice if I would want to do the same for you? You don’t get to make choices for me!” She could not help the bitterness  that was  leaking in around the words as she spoke. Too many decisions had  been made for her, and she would not tolerate it any longer. He would find her far less willing to go along with his arrogance these days.

Solas’ eyes were a well of regret as he turned, walking away from the two  of them  toward the edge of the plateau where they  stood . His glorious figure  stood silhouetted by the ancient ruins beyond. It was fitting, both of them relics of a time long past.

“ I sought to set my  people free from slavery to would-be  gods .  I broke the chains of all who wished to join me.  I would think you would understand my actions, considering your path has  begun to go the same way.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “The false  gods called me Fen’Harel, and when they  finally  went too far, I formed  the Veil and banished them forever. Thus, I freed the Elvhen  people , and in doing so, destroyed their  world .”

“You  created the Veil ? How would that destroy the  world ?”  Hale’s eyes were blown wide, his mouth hanging open.

Natalie mind blanked. He  created the  _ Veil _ _?  _ Just how powerful was he?

“You saw the Vir Dirthara, did you not? Countless marvels were intrinsically linked to the Fade, including the elves themselves.”

She listened then as he described the fall of the  Elvhen empire and  the loss of their immortality. The full scope of the story they had seen glimpses of in the Crossroads and through the Eluvians. He blamed himself. The  guilt was palpable around him.  It was sad , to see someone so proud  be wracked with  guilt over things he could not have foreseen. 

It was sad , right  up  until the point where she remembered  she was pissed at him. And then he told them about  Corypheus , and p issed became an understatement.

“Wait,  _ you _ gave  Corypheus the orb?” Hale’s pale face flushed red. 

“Not directly . I allowed his  venatori to locate it.” To his credit, he  actually did appear pained. “I  thought the blast from unlocking it would kill him.”

“Well, you  thought wrong,” Natalie said with a voice like  stone . She had stayed  mostly  silent through their exchange as Solas told Hale the truth of the history of his people. Really , it had felt intrusive to insert herself. But this, this concerned her too.

“It was  a miscalculation , one I joined the Inquisition to correct.” 

“ A  _ miscalculation _ _? _ Is that what you call it?” She let out a short bark of angry laughter. “ A miscalculation ? I think you mean ‘mistake’. It isn’t  a miscalculation when it  was always going to turn out horribly .”

He stared at her strangely , a hint of something deep and sad in his eyes. “Even  the wisest being cannot plan for every eventuality.”

“ The wisest beings wouldn’t take a gamble on allowing someone like that the power to do what he did.” Natalie glanced at Hale,  still concerned, to make sure he was  still standing before she made to walk toward her former lover. “So what now? What was the end goal of all this? What were you hoping to accomplish?”

“Something I would be interested to know too.” Hale’s face was hard beside her.

“I would have entered the Fade and torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would restore the world of the elves.”

There was a long silence as the two of them digested his words.  Restore the world of the elves ? 

Wait,  _ burned in the raw chaos _ _? _ “You ’re going to destroy  the world, ” Natalie said, her breath halting in her chest.

Hale’s outrage was palpable. “There are already elves in _this_ world. Are we not enough? Why not seek to help those already living rather than the dead?”

“My people fell for what I did, and I will restore them.”

“Solas, you can’t just rewrite the past. That’s not how life works.” Natalie didn’t know what to say. He  was insane . This  was insane . His words burned like tiny cuts on her skin. “You asked me once if I would go home, if you  found a way to send me back. Do you remember what I told you?”

For the first time, his smooth facade cracked, and she saw the regret beneath. Whatever his plans, he was not enjoying them. Her anger wavered at his obvious pain. “I do.”

“Then I want you to  think about that.” Natalie’s shoulders fell as she took a deep breath and stepped toward him. “Please  think about it.” Her voice was soft as she stopped before him. There was an itch in her fingers to reach up and touch his face, to see if his skin  still held the shapes she remembered. Even after all of this talking, it  still seemed surreal  that  he was standing before her. 

His  eyes were dark and liquid as they met hers. “I wish I could,  vhenan .”

_Vhenan_ _._ Hearing that voice say  that word again was like a spike to the chest. She felt the telltale sharp sting of tears behind her eyes, the warmth creeping up her face. Natalie felt like a fool because, even after all this time, all she wanted was him. Before her brain could tell her heart what a stupid idea it was, she was pressed against his chest, her fingers buried in the thick pelt that criss-crossed his armor. “ _Please._ You don’t have to do this.”

His chest shuddered  slightly  under her cheek. Warm  fingers came up to caress her face, tracing the line of her jaw. The familiar scent of forest and cinnamon filled her nose  like a homecoming.  In her chest , her heart gave an agonized lurch as he tilted her chin up to look at him. “I wish that were true. You don’t  know how much.”

She felt  like she was swimming in his eyes, her anger faded and replaced by sadness and regret. And love. Despite how foolish it was, the swell of raw emotion  in her chest overwhelmed her thoughts, chasing away anything but the feel of him  on her skin . “You  know we  will have to stop you.”

“I know you will try.” His fingers slid up her jaw to her cheek, tracing the long cut on her face. Magic hummed, cool and tingling, on her skin as it closed beneath his feather-light touch. “There is one final thing I must tell you.”

Natalie didn’t think she could take any more. With a brittle laugh, she reached up to brush her knuckles across his  cheek . “What else could you  possibly  have to tell me?”

“Something hunts you in the  Fade . You  must stay away from it.” 

_ That _ got her attention. “Who is he?”

“I cannot  tell you that, but know that you cannot best him. Do not venture into the conscious  Fade , it is far too dangerous.”

She sighed, her fingers spreading to cup the side of his face. “More secrets.”

“It is necessary.”

“So you always say, but it’s  just not true.” He would never change. It was  abundantly  clear to her. “If  you will not tell me,  I will have to find the answer on my own.”

“I know  you will do as you think best.  Just , please, heed my warning.”

“ I will keep it in mind.” Her mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile as the moment grew heavy and sad. 

The touch on her face traveled back, sliding through the hair above her ear  that was  loose from its braid. “ I will never forget you.” His words were leaden in her ears as his head descended. 

Breath mingled, hot and sweet as their lips met in a single desperate  kiss . He tasted as she remembered, the feel of him against her like a home and a prison.  Exactly  where she belonged and powerless to escape him even if she wanted to. The  kiss was a nuclear bomb, a quick flash that left aftershocks that would never fade. When it ended, she felt cold and alone.

They pulled apart, still staring at each other. “I look forward to  finding a way to save you from yourself,” she said.

“I would treasure the chance to be wrong,  vhenan .” His lips were set in a somber line, and his eyes reflected longing and regret. But behind all that, she could see the steel core of resolve.

Behind her, the sound of  Hale clearing his throat brought her out of the haze she always seemed to exist within when Solas was around. The burn of heat in her cheeks had her pulling away from him completely .

Hale fixed her with a soft smile as she turned before glaring once more at  Solas . “What about the Anchor? How do I get this damned thing out of my hand without it killing me?” 

As if on cue, it flashed bright green and  Hale staggered, crying out in pain. Natalie’s heart leapt into her throat as she bounded to his side. “ Hale !” 

Solas approached, his  face hardened back into the mask of Fen’Harel he had worn when they first arrived. “The Mark will  eventually  kill you. At least your presence here has given me the chance to save you from it… for now.”

As Solas gripped his flaring arm, Hale’s  face twisted into a pained grin of pure mischief. “I have one last question for you.”

His head tilted sideways  as Solas peered at him. “And what would that be?”

Laughing  harshly  through another flare from the Anchor, Hale bared his teeth at him. “I’m sure you heard the rumors from your spies. Aren’t you  going to ask me if I  really  put a bun in your girl’s oven?”

Solas ’ face turned to stone, disapproving to the last. “Inquisitor, one of these days your jokes  are going to be the death of you.”

Then the world flashed green and an agonized scream of pain ripped through the air. Natalie’s ears rang as a wave of power rolled over her from the Anchor. Hale fell against her, gasping.   
In the chaos, she  hardly  registered the golden form walking away until the Eluvian went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Trespasser is done. Now you only have my insane ramblings and theories to go on. :)


	55. Don't Come Back

The Inquisition was dead.

It was surreal now, as the carriage they rode in rumbled up the cobbled road to the wide metal gates into Skyhold, to think  that  it was over.

Only a week ago, she had held Hale’s pale, shaking form as his arm crumbled to dust and the architect of his doom escaped in the chaos. The bombshell revelation that her former lover was the ancient Elvhen god Fen’Harel had yet to sink in fully ,  especially  given his plan to destroy this world and restore the one he had known thousands of years ago.

_ Fen fucking Harel. _ She couldn’t even bring herself to  be sad this time. Just angry. And the longer she thought about it, the angrier she got. It was one of those situations where the perfect comeback comes five minutes too late and she was still kicking herself for it. Once the shock of all of it wore off,  all that was left was her rage and shame. The memory of sitting in her room in Skyhold after Cole’s intervention and crying while she spilled all her jumbled emotions about not being who she thought she was. It would have been the perfect opportunity for him to tell her everything.  _ “I’m sorry, Natalie, but I know how you feel because I’m not from this world either.” _ But no. Just lies. Bastard.

Six days ago, she had stood at the back of the room as Hale burst into the Exalted Council with one sleeve of his resplendent red coat pinned up to his shoulder and told them all  that  they could shove their petty fears and arguments up their asses. With a resounding thud, he had thrown the Inquisition’s charter on the floor, shocking the assembled company with his decision to disband the Inquisition himself. His parting words had been an admonition. He had a world to save… again.

There was no way she  was going to let this be his responsibility. Somehow, Solas felt like hers. Sleeping next to him for months, she should have noticed. And now  that  she knew, there had been so many clues. She was blind. Even more blind than she had thought she was before. Thinking about it made her angry at herself,  in addition to being angry at him. 

Five days ago, they had stood in conference and decided that they needed to break apart, find a new angle, decide what to do about Solas and his plans where they were sure he had no spies. Then Hale had bundled Natalie into a carriage bound for Skyhold and  promptly  fallen asleep. He  was weak , exhausted from the stress of losing his arm and the Inquisition all at once.  Barely  opening his eyes to eat, he had been asleep for most of the time since.

Natalie looked down at the white head pillowed in her lap and sighed. She was  beginning to wonder if he was ever planning to wake up. It was  obvious  he was having nightmares. Whimpers and moans filled the carriage at regular intervals as he slept fitfully .

It had been a  very  long,  very quiet five days.

The benefit was that it had also given her a lot of time to think. She had  come to the conclusion that the best place for them to start this movement was with her.  The cottage was isolated , but easy to get in and out of quickly .  The bunkhouse could be utilized until they could clear  some  more land to build more dwellings. God willing, Solas  had no idea where she had been all these months since leaving Skyhold. No one knew about it except for Hale and Iron Bull.

Logic dictated that it was the best place. Plus, they were already engaged in seditious behaviors, so what was one more? She would send a raven to Anders as soon as they arrived in Skyhold. The cottage may belong to her, but it was his home too. She couldn’t make this decision without his approval.

The courtyard was a bustle of activity as the carriage pulled in, swaying as the horses brought it to a halt. Natalie glanced down at her sleeping companion and brushed his hair away from his face with gentle fingers. 

“Hale.” When he did not stir, she tried again, louder. “Hale. We’ve reached Skyhold.”

His brow furrowed as she  began to wake , muttering  elven curses under his breath. Bright green eyes looked at her as he  finally  opened them. “Skyhold?”

She nodded. “We’re here. We have to get out of the carriage now.”

“Ugh.” A long groan of disgust came from his throat as he rolled and sat up. “That trip was shorter than I expected.”

_ I imagine it was because you slept through it. _ Immediately , she felt guilty for her bitter thought. Hale was recovering from trauma. He’d lost his arm. Although Natalie felt like she had lost a piece of her soul, yet again.  _ Stupid Solas and his stupid plans.  _ It was all his fault. Even things that were not his fault, she  was going to blame on him anyway. Nothing  was ever going to be not his fault again.

Hale moved like he was eighty years old as he hauled his body from the bench. Before she could stop him, he lifted his amputated arm to reach of the door knob. His face fell for a moment, pain flashing across his eyes, before he  slowly  opened the door with the other hand.

She knew better,  at this point,  than to show him any pity. The ordeal with the out-of-control anchor had taught her  that  it would only earn her anger in return . What little he had said to her in the past week  tended to be snappish, and she had to keep reminding herself to cut him a little slack. So she marched on, she handled travel arrangements, and she carted his sleeping ass back to Skyhold. 

But really , all she wanted to do was go back to  Wycome and crawl in bed for the next year.

The air  was cool as she stepped from the carriage, the familiar stone walls of Skyhold almost a stranger now.  Hale’s face was frozen in a mask of indifference beside her as they mounted the stairs and made their way into the Great Hall. Already, the great banners were down from the ceilings. The mosaic murals  partially  dismantled, open crates with  carefully  stored pieces still visible beneath them. People scurried everywhere, carrying boxes and baskets and  all manner of things. Natalie wondered what they were planning to do with  all of it , what would become of Skyhold after  they were gone . She hoped it would not lay long abandoned as it had for countless centuries before they arrived.

Hale made his way toward the doors to his rooms. For a moment, she  was afraid he planned to disappear into his quarters and go back to sleep, but he turned to her and gave her the first smile she had seen in days. “Come on. I think we should talk.”

Natalie nodded. “I agree. I think we have  some  decisions to make.”

“Not here.” Hale held up his hand, his eyes darting around. 

He led her up the stairs to his quarters, still silent. As they reached the top of the stairs and the door closed behind them, his shoulders  visibly  relaxed. He seemed  to deflate . She felt her heart lurch in her chest to see her brother struggle so. 

Slipping her arms around his waist, Natalie laid her cheek against his shoulder blades and sighed. “At the risk of pissing you off, I  just  want to say  that  I am here if you want to talk about it.”

The muscles beneath her cheek shuddered. “I might take you up on that, once I figure out how I feel.” His voice sounded small and sad from where she stood. 

“Nothing will change how I feel about you,  isa’ma’lin . I will always be there when you need me.  Always .”

“I know, Nat.” His hand reached down to  lay over hers, their skin sharing warmth and comfort. 

They stood there for long moments, saying nothing. The slight shiver coursing through his body and the soft sniffle in the air told her  that  he might  very  well be crying, and she didn’t want to move and risk embarrassing him. He needed to cry. Needed to mourn.

Once he quieted, she gave him a squeeze. “Why don’t you come back to the Free Marches with me?”

There was a sharp indrawn breath. “The Free Marches?”

“Yeah. Come back, live in the cottage. We can work on how we move forward from there. You can get  directly  involved in this freedom train that was  _ your _ idea in the first place . With any luck, it’s isolated enough  that  it will be like we have dropped off the map. It might give us the element of surprise once we are ready.”

“Nat, you only have two beds,  both of which are occupied .” He turned his head to peer at her over his shoulder. 

“Not true. We are building a bunkhouse. But really , when has it ever been an issue to share?” Natalie released her arms and gave him a pat on the back before moving around him so she could see his face.

Hale watched her with bright eyes, more alert than she had seen in days. She had his interest. “And what, you ’re going to share with Anders? I mean, I know you all got busy but is it  really  to that level?” A smirk formed at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, shut it.” She scrunched her brows together in a facsimile of a stern look, but she  was so happy to see that smile that there was no way she could be angry. “You know  very  well that Anders and I will never be more than friends. Me and you can share.”

He sighed and went to shove his hands in the pockets. The stump of his left arm moved with the right one, but there was no hand to complete the motion. His face fell, and she felt a stab of pain for him. “That’s—” he said, his voice breaking. He swallowed hard and continued, “That 's going to take  some  getting used to.”

“It will, but you will get used to it.” She smiled. “Maybe we can convince Dagna to build you a sweet enchanted prosthetic arm that can shoot arrows or something.” 

With a bark of sharp laughter, Hale’s shoulders relaxed. “That would be  pretty  amazing, to be honest. Maybe we can get it to shoot a grappling hook too, that way I can scale buildings.”

She grinned, happy to see him joke about it. “So what do you think about my idea?”

“What? Going back to the Free Marches?” Hale stared off for a moment, his eyes wandering out the windows. “I guess that’s as good an idea as any.”

“Don’t sound so excited.”

His smirk turned into a fall blown smile as he looked at her sheepishly . “I would love to Natalie. It will be nice to be near my family again, and I should tell them what is going on. If your insane ex is already convincing elves to join him, then I want to make sure my clan is not among them.”

“So it’s settled then. Home to the Free Marches.”

“Settled.” His eyes twinkled as he regarded her before turning serious. “I’m glad you were there, Natalie, and I’m glad you're here now.”

“Always, Hale. I already told you that.”

“Always.”

“Come on.” She gestured behind her to his huge  Orlesian bed. “Let’s enjoy that huge, comfy bed of yours while we can.”

 

* * *

 

The murals were just as she remembered them. Vivid colors swirling and slashing in harsh lines and soft shading. As she looked at them now, they made so much more sense. The repeated wolves shown in them were  stunningly  obvious now  that  she knew who he was. Really , a lot of things were. For someone so smart, he had been  stupidly  obvious about it. A shiver went down her spine as she remembered the night around the fire when she had told Hale the story of Little Red Riding Hood, and the words Solas had spoken to her after. 

_ Watch out for wolves. _

She shook her head. No fucking kidding. Past Natalie should have listened to his words more carefully . 

But she was not here to spend more hours staring at these walls and mooning over her lost, lying love. No, she was here to make a  colossally  idiotic decision. 

Laying on the floor, she pillowed her head on the spare blanket she scrounged from Hale’s bedroom and closed her eyes. 

She was mad as hell, and she needed answers. And she  was going to get them.

Her mind drifted, settling into  the stones around her . It seemed appropriate that she  was going to defy him in the  very  place he had made into his sanctuary at Skyhold.

Served him right.

When the world around her went dark and the familiar scenery of her favorite meadow  started to materialize , she knew that she had accomplished her goal. The soft grass tickled her bare feet as she walked through the dense foliage. Sweet sunlight filtered through the trees, glistening on the slow bubbling of the river. Tree branches waved above her, scattering dappled shadows on the ground. Instantly , she felt at peace. This was her place. 

If only there wasn’t a creeping darkness from her last visit. A slow, insidious fear that crept into her mind. The feel of strong fingers wrapped around her throat. Ripples of anxiety crept over her neck, breaking down her spine in waves.

With a hard swallow, she pushed those fears down. This was a terrible idea, but she didn’t have a better one. Solas had refused to give the information to her, so she was determined to find it on her own.

Sitting in the center of the meadow, Natalie tucked her feet beneath her. Reaching out with her mind, she let energy fill her and expand. Releasing her control, it rolled out of her in a pale lavender wave.

And she waited. Secure  in the knowledge that if he was coming, it wouldn’t be long.

She was right.

At the edges of her awareness, a black spot grew. It bobbed toward her, only a pinprick, but she knew it was him. She could feel it. The pinprick grew, snowballing into a dark mass that materialized into the same beautiful, terrible face she remembered.

It was odd though. He looked different. More human, somehow. More real. Solid.

His face was still angular, but  it was softened .  His piercing golden eyes  were still intense , but not the same awe-inspiring stare as before.  His height, too, seemed smaller. He still towered over her, but not to the exaggerated extent that he had. And his energy was different. Stronger. A sense of dread caused the small hairs on her arms to stand on end. 

“An’daran atish’an, little bird. We meet again.” His eyes were like miniature suns as he studied her.

“We do. Welcome.” Natalie bowed her head respectfully . Her neck had decided it very much liked not being strangled, so she had resolved to do her utmost not to anger him.

“My, my. Our attitude has changed today. Do you desire something from me,  da’len ? Is that why?”

Natalie looked up at him before lowering her gaze, trying her best to project an image of subservience. “I  was under the impression you wanted something from me. If you would tell me what it is, we could discuss how we can make that happen.”

His answering grin was feral. “Oh, no, little bird, it will not be that easy. I have lived far too many years to fall into your pretty trap.” His feet seemed to glide across the tips of the grass as he crossed toward her slowly . “Why is it you felt  that  you could just summon me?”

Natalie bowed her head. “I would never presume to do so, my lord.” What would one call an ancient Elvhen god? She guessed my lord did just as well . “I  simply  wanted to make sure you knew where to find me, if you wished to.”

His answering laugh was dark, filled with the now familiar ring of madness. The long years of imprisonment had not treated his mind  well, if it had been whole before. “Never doubt  that  I have known where to find you for quite some time.”

The dark hem of his long robe filled her vision as she stared at the ground, clenching her teeth against the urge to tell him to back the fuck off. “I do not doubt that.”

Silence stretched across the meadow, ominous and heavy. “Did you know that your people once revered me as a god?” His voice was soft but held an undertone of menace tinged with pride. He wanted her to know how above her he was.

Natalie’s eyes flew upward, finding his face. “What do you mean ‘my people?’”

“Those on the world you came from. Earth.” His eyes were keen as they studied her face, taking in her reaction.

She didn’t know how to react to that. How had people from her world known  a being from this one? Her eyes flew to his. “How?”

Golden eyes narrowed as an arrogant smile sprawled across his face. “Maybe I should not tell you.”

Her heart beat at a frantic pace in her chest. “Please. Please tell me.” If he knew how things  were connected , maybe… But would she even want to?

A dark chuckle rolled from his throat as he crouched before her, his fingertips finding her jaw. The touch sent chills down her spine. It held no warmth or comfort, only a statement and a warning. “Once, before the veil so  rudely  sundered the world of the waking and the world of dreams, I held dominion over the souls of the dead. I was their guide. Their keeper.”

That rang a bell. She remembered the stories Hale told around the campfire as they traveled, the prayers he whispered over fallen soldiers. “You’re  Falon’Din .”

A feral grin transformed his face, light beaming from behind his eyes. “You have heard of me.”

“I have.”

Her answer  obviously  pleased him. “Then you know what I am.”

She knew what he wanted to hear her say, but the word made her want to vomit. Somehow, she forced herself to say it. “A God. One of the  Evanuris .”

“ Very good , little bird.” His eyes turned to flint and his fingers tightened around her chin, his thumb raising to trace her bottom lip. “Long ago, people on Earth called me  Cernunnos , the Horned God. They revered me there as they did here. Prior to the treachery that put the Veil in place and imprisoned me behind it, I once held dominion over the souls of both worlds. I ushered human and elf alike, from  Elvhenan and Earth, into the Void as one.”

“So  they  _ are _ directly connected .” She stared into his wide, golden eyes, feeling the shock of his words and  the excitement of a piece  finally  falling into place.

“ In a sense. ” His eyes narrowed. “It seems you are as well . Tell me… how did you find yourself on the waking side of the Veil?”

Natalie felt her heart pound. There it was. That’s what he wanted from her. “I don’t know.”

The look on his face was calculating as he stared into her eyes. “It’s unwise to lie to me .”

“I have no memories between leaving my world and waking in this one.” 

Small points of pain bloomed on her skin as his fingers shifted and his nails pressed against her cheeks. “I won’t warn you again.” His presence seemed to grow before her, the darkness expanding. It sucked the warmth from the air. His nails drove in further, piercing the skin, causing her to cry out.

She shivered, cold and fear running down her spine. Breath caught in her throat. This was a dangerous game she was playing, but he didn’t know that she already had what she came for. She knew who he was now, and what he wanted. “Please don’t hurt me. I would tell you if I knew.” Her voice came out as a soft gasp.

He paused, the tips of his nails still embedded in her skin. The slow, sticky warmth of blood dripped from her chin. His head rose, his eyes leaving her to scan the woods beyond her head. “It seems we will have to play another day, little bird. I would hate to give the game away too quickly .” He released her face, leaving the wounds on her skin throbbing. Slowly , he stood to his full height, still watching the trees with an amused gleam in his owlish eyes. With a pointed grin, he looked down at her on her knees before him and raised his hand to lick the blood from his fingertips. “I will come visit again soon.”

In a flurry of black,  he was gone , leaving her staring after him. It didn’t matter. He had already given his game away.

She sat there for long moments, digesting what he told her. The spirits of this world and hers, joined in the afterlife. The barrier thin enough that those from Earth had known him in whatever ancient iteration had existed before time and myth had obscured the truth. The Horned God. So what did that make Thedas to Earth? What did that make the ancient Elvhen? She wracked her brain, trying to remember anything she could about legends of the Horned God.

A rustling in the forest behind her broke through her thoughts. She did not turn, for she could already feel him there. The familiar anger that persisted since the Crossroads boiled back up in her veins.  “What do you want?”

“That was very foolish,  vhenan .” His voice was  like waving a red flag.

Natalie stood, not deigning to turn and look at him. “Don’t presume to tell  _ me _ what is foolish or not, Solas. And don’t call me that.”

“Did I not warn you?”

“And did I not warn you?” she countered.

The leaves rustled, crackling as he moved closer. “You do not know what forces you are playing with here.” His words were ominous, a warning. She didn’t care.

With a caustic laugh, she turned her head and caught sight of him. “How dare you say  that to me,  Mr. ‘let’s play god because I feel  guilty. ’” The stoked coals of her anger flared to life and fire flowed across her chest and up her neck, leaving her face feeling hot and tight. “I’m only doing this because you’re forcing me to.”

Gray eyes narrowed at her. “I am only trying to right a wrong.”

“Bullshit.” She spun to face him  fully  now, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s bullshit. Murdering an entire world isn’t righting a wrong, and if you stopped to look past your own nose for five seconds, you would realize that.”

“You  have no idea about the things of which you speak, Natalie.” His face turned almost angry.

“Yeah? Well do you have any idea that your creepy friend who was just here is trying to escape the Fade? I hope you have a grand plan to deal with that too, before the rest of us have to clean up that mess like we had to with  Corypheus .” With a deep sigh of disgust, she turned to walk away. “Stay out of my head, Fen’Harel.”

“Natalie—‘

“No.” Her voice was hard, sharp as a dagger as she cut him off, still walking away across the meadow. “We can talk when you’ve come to your senses.”

The surrounding woods faded away as she left him behind, not daring to look back just in case her resolve faltered. Bright colors and crisp lines took shape before her eyes as she opened them, feeling drained and exhausted even after her sleep. Natalie lay there on the floor for a long time, staring at the images of black wolves dancing across the walls and feeling the weight of everything she had to do falling on her.

Rising, she dusted off her clothing. She needed to speak to Hale. 

They had plans to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than usual break. Unfortunately, there are some things going on in my personal life that have taken my time and attention.
> 
> I will continue to update as often as possible, and I appreciate your patience in the meantime. I want you all to know that I have no intention of going on hiatus or abandoning this fic.


	56. Somebody That I Used to Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!

Home was just as she remembered it. Well, almost. As she rode across the river and into the clearing with Hale, there was a brand new, mostly completed structure sitting beside her barn and a familiar red-headed figure perched on its roof.

“Gabe!” Natalie called to him as she pulled her horse to a stop in front of the stables. Hale had insisted on bringing two horses from Skyhold when they left. A gift from Horsemaster Dennett, he said.

His ginger head came up, a grin splashing across his handsome face. “Natalie! You’re back early. Your friend in there said your ship wasn’t due back in for another two days.”

“Fair winds, I guess! Fine by me, it was two less days I spent draped over the railing.” With a laugh, she turned to Hale, who was eyeing Gabe suspiciously. “What?” Her brows furrowed as she threw him a quizzical look.

Hale shook his head. “I don’t know. I—“ His face scrunched as he dismounted. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

What was it with men lately? If she had to sit around with another stubborn male who refused to tell her things, she was going to scream. Her eyes rolled as she ventured into the stable to take care of her horse. Daisy whickered in annoyance as she passed her stall with another mount. Natalie reached in and gave her horse a fond pat on the nose. “Don’t worry, beautiful girl. You’re still my favorite.”

When she emerged from the stable, a familiar blonde form was leaning beside the front door with his arms crossed over his chest. A grin spread across her face as she covered the distance between them. “Anders.”

The word was barely out of her mouth before she found herself enveloped in his lanky arms. He held her for several moments before he let her go to squash her face between his hands, turning it from one side to the other so he could study it with a practiced gaze. “You look okay. No major damage. But are you really?”

Natalie shrugged, simple exhaustion coming over her. Val Royeaux. The Winter Palace. The Crossroads. Meeting Solas again. Falon’Din. It was a lot, but she felt surprisingly peaceful despite all of it. Focused. She had a goal, now they just needed a plan. “I will be.”

“Your letter left me a little worried I was going to greet a broken shell of a woman.”

She laughed. Before they departed Skyhold, Natalie had written him a lengthy letter letting him know what had happened in Orlais, and after. It might be that she had been a tad bit dramatic, pouring out the whining she felt too guilty to voice to Hale. “Not quite yet. Give me a couple more years and maybe I’ll get there.” Looking behind her, her eyes sought Hale, finding him leaving the stable with his pack.

There was a dockside warehouse with a whole load of things from Skyhold, waiting until they had a place to put them. Even more had been sent to the estate in Kirkwall that Varric had gifted him. Even so, Natalie knew Hale was going to miss Skyhold. Miss the mountains. Nothing was going to replace what had been taken from him by arrogance and ignorance. “Hale! Come on, I’ll make dinner.”

He waved at her from across the yard, his quick gesture indicating he was coming. She looped her arm with Anders and guided him into the house. “We have… things to tell you, my friend.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that.” Anders’ voice was calm with a hint of amusement. “And I will make dinner. You use got back from a long journey. What do you take me for? You are going to sit down and rest while I cook.”

Natalie let out a peal of laughter. Goodness it was good to be home. “Alright, if you insist. I’m going to take a bath while you cook then.”

“Be still my heart. How will I be able to focus on food knowing you’re naked under the same roof?”

“Oh please. Been there, done that, already decided on no repeats.”

It was his turn to laugh. “So we did. Go clean up. I’ll have dinner on the table by the time you’re done.”

She started toward the stairs, but stopped short and turned to him. “Anders? Keep an eye on Hale for me. He’s better than he was, but he’s still struggling. Especially with his arm. Don’t make him talk about it. He just gets angry.”

Anders’ face was serious as he nodded. “I understand.”

The hot water felt like nothing short of heaven on her skin as she sunk down to her neck in the big wooden tub they had procured for the small bathing room off the back of the cottage. It was a luxury she had insisted on as soon as they could manage it, having gotten used to the feel of taking baths at Skyhold. She was spoiled and not afraid to admit it. Although she had to haul the water from the well herself, at least it could be heated by nothing more than a simple fire spell. Being a mage really was useful sometimes.

Tension slowly drained from her muscles. The unseen grit of weeks of anxiety and helplessness fell away, leaving her feeling renewed. Closing her eyes, she let her body float in the water. But really, it was her mind that decided to do the floating.

Two sets of eyes haunted the darkness behind her eyelids. One as golden as freshly minted coins. The other the fathomless icy gray-blue of a frozen lake. Both hid secrets and plans and darkness behind them. They would find a way to defeat all of them. It was obvious to her now that immortality was not all that it was cracked up to be. All the so-called immortals she had met harbored the same arrogance. The same assurance that they were all-seeing and all-knowing. They were all touched by the madness of ages. Even Solas, so insightful upon first glance, was plagued by the insanity that only too long a life seemed to bring. Solas. Corypheus. Falon’Din. Abelas and the sentinels in the Temple of Mythal. It made her wonder if the elves were not better off for their shorter life span.

She lay in the water until her skin was pale and pruned but her mind was cleaner than it had been in weeks. Rising from the water, she felt the water sluice from her skin, leaving behind some emotional baggage along with the travel dirt in the murky tub. The thick smell of something delicious called to her from the front of the house as she dressed. Anders had apparently learned something new since she left. They had so much to discuss, and she needed to know how his deliveries to Giles in Wycome were going in her absence. It wouldn’t do for her to have lost her job while she was away.

Anders’ tall form stood over the cooking fire as she walked back into the main room. There was an odd sort of tension in the air as he and Hale stood opposite Gabe, who had come in and taken up a spot at the table. The room was deafening in its silence. Hale was studying the ginger man with narrowed eyes full of suspicion, which surprised her. Normally, he was one to take to people easily. What the hell was going on here that she couldn’t see? Had words been exchanged while she was bathing?

She took a spot at the table between Gabe and Hale, turning her head to smile at one and then the other. “I see you two have met.”

“Not exactly.” Hale’s voice was clipped and she fought the urge to kick him under the table.

“Well, let me fix that for you. Hale, this is Gabe. Gabe is from Earth, like me.” She raised her eyebrows, giving him a meaningful look. “He’s the one we came here looking for.” She watched him digest this information, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. “Gabe, this is Haleir Lavellan. My dearest friend and leader of the Inquisition.”

“Former.” Hale cut in. “Former leader of the Inquisition.”

Natalie bit her lip, regretting her phrasing. He was still mourning the loss of many things. “Former leader of the Inquisition.”

Gabe sent an easy smile his way. “Nice to me you, Haleir. I’ve heard a good deal about you from Natalie.”

Hale didn’t respond, as Anders chose than particular moment to set a large pot in the center of the table with a resounding thud. “Stew’s ready.” His words were obviously meant for Hale and Natalie. His manner seemed to suggest he was ignoring Gabe completely. She would bet he had some choice words for her about her leaving him alone with Gabe all these weeks. Frankly, she was surprised the cottage still stood.

Natalie smiled through gritted teeth, wondering how she was going to eat without bashing one or more of them over the head. This was going to be a long meal.

 

* * *

 

Shadows crept over the wooden floors as Natalie sat alone at the kitchen table, a glass of wine clasped in her hands. Her two roommates had long since sought their beds, Anders in his room and Hale in hers. Hale had tried to convince her he would sleep in the barn loft, but she had threatened him with bodily harm if he did not get his ass up the stairs into her room. Wisely, he had chosen not to argue further. Somehow, she thought he could see the pure crazy brewing in her eyes.

Lunch had been a tense affair, as had the afternoon until Gabe left. She couldn’t figure out what was going on there. Anders had always held the man in intense dislike, for whatever reason. He would not explain it to her, saying only that he didn’t trust him. But Hale… she had never seen him react to someone that way. It was bizarre. Surely the loss of a limb couldn’t bring about such a shift in personality. Could it?

Over dinner, the two of them had spilled the whole story of the Winter Palace to Anders, telling him of Solas and his plans, of the Crossroads and the Qunari. Anders’ already pale face had blanched. It seemed he was familiar with the Qunari. There was a little more peace in her soul tonight though, now that they had something of a plan. Tomorrow, they would go and speak to the Keeper of Clan Lavellan and, hopefully, come away with more of one.

Now, she sat in silence, staring at a lone wooden crate that had occupied the space under their stairs for months now. It was dusty, half-hidden under a pile of extra blankets and clothing they had no other place for. For a long time, she had been able to ignore it’s presence. It was nothing more than a piece of furniture. But now it taunted her with the promise of what lay inside. What secrets did it hold?

After Solas’ disappearance following the defeat of Corypheus, she had been too heartbroken to pay much attention to what she packed away. Books, certainly, but more than that. Journals. Notes. Lists. There were reams of paper covered in his elegant handwriting within it’s wooden confines.

The question now was if he had been stupid enough to write anything of importance down and leave it for someone to find. Not likely, in her estimation. But then again, he had all but declared his true identity to her in the early days of their friendship. Natalie snorted, sipping the rich Antivan red in her glass. _He who walks alone, indeed._

Before she could think better of it, her feet were on the floor and the extra linens tossed to one side. Heavy breath weighed down her lungs as she stared at the now exposed lid of the crate. There was a clenching inside her chest. Despite everything, this still felt like an invasion of his privacy.

Shaking her head, she tossed that absurd thought aside. He wasn’t deserving of privacy any longer. If it was important, she figured he would have found a way to remove it before anyone found it. In her estimation, all of this was fair game now. And they needed every weapon they had.

Her throat worked as she tilted her head back and drained the remaining wine from her glass. “Fuck it.” she said, setting her glass aside so she could grip the wood.

It made a screeching noise as she scooted it out from under the steps. Stopping, Natalie paused and listened, waiting to see if she had disturbed either of the men who slept on the other side of thin walls. The last thing she really wanted right now was for one of them to come out and ask her what she was doing. Both men would insist on helping, but she had to do this alone. She needed to do this alone. When nothing stirred, she resumed her labors, taking care to be a little more gentle this time.

By the time she freed the crate from it’s long resting place, she was panting and her heart was racing in her chest. As much as she told herself it was only because the crate was large and heavy, she could feel the tell-tale flutter of nerves in her belly and a prickle of adrenaline racing in her veins. The lure of what she might find was seductive, but she hesitated.

More wine. That’s what she needed before she did this. Fetching the bottle, she considered the glass for a moment before uncorking it with a laugh and taking a long drink directly from the bottle. This was not going to be a one glass kind of endeavor.

There was a flurry of dust as she pulled away the lid. Coughing, she tossed it aside and took another long drink to clear the grit from her throat. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. If she were being honest, she needed the liquid courage. Truly, she had every intention of getting good and sloshed before this was through.

The journal was still on top, it’s cover taunting her as she peeled away the oiled cloth protecting the crate’s interior. Her fingers reached for it and hesitated. She well knew some of what it contained, but her earlier glimpse had been cursory and distracted once she saw the drawings he had sketched within. The worn leather cover felt like butter against her skin as she forced herself to pick it up.

_Well, here goes nothing._

And she settled in to read.

Time became a hazy thing, between the wine and the stuttering light of the dying fire. The words on the pages spelled out his initial horror at waking to find the world changed beyond recognition.

_It seems as though mages now feel no greater connection to the Fade than being able to manipulate its energy with varying degrees of effectiveness. They have been cut off from it. If only they knew what their abilities were meant to be._

Did he still see them that way? Stumbling blind through life, not knowing what they were missing. Like Tranquil, he had said, in the Crossroads. Like walking through a world of Tranquil.

As she kept reading, she saw mentions of herself in the pages. The first descriptions of her were heart-wrenching. He wrote about the sight of her dying in the snow, blood spattered over pale skin and pristine snow. The first night they had spoken, after she had recovered enough to wake from her coma. Apparently, she had made an impression on him.

The words on the page spoke of his interest in the way her life energy and connection to the Fade stuck out from those of the people around her. How she resonated more like his friends in the Fade more than other humans. That particular passage made her nauseous nearly to the point of needing to relieve her stomach of her dinner.

_Clearly, she is not human, but she is not elven or even obviously a spirit either. It remains to be seen what inhabits her form, but she is not what she appears. It will be fascinating to see what happens if she ever wakes._

He had known from the beginning that she was not simply Natalie. From the very fucking beginning, and never bothered to tell her. She felt a jolt of hot anger, fueled by bitterness and alcohol. How dare he keep it from her? Of course, how did you tell someone something like that? Still, she deserved to know and she could not help the resentment that bubbled up in her chest. In a fit of petulant, alcohol-fueled anger, she tossed the journal across the floor with a thud and reached for another volume. She couldn’t stomach more of that tonight.

Light began to bleed through the front windows, hitting against the smoky glass of the bottle beside her as she stared at the pages before her. It hardly registered.

As it turned out, he had a habit of writing down his thoughts on scraps and in notebooks. He filled countless sheets of paper with ideas and musings and calculations. There were passages about the state of the Veil. Worrisome, even from the beginning, it seemed. And even more worrisome now.

_The Veil is becoming worn and thin in too many places to stem its deterioration. I have spoken to the Herald regarding finding the generators I used to create it in hopes that turning them on may stabilize it so that we may have enough time to bring plans into action. It would not do for it to fall while I am still unprepared._

The Veil was weakened and failing, she realized with horror. A feeling that only intensified as she read. Later passages confirmed it. She lifted the bottle, tipping it toward her mouth. Nothing came. With a start, she realized that it had disappeared into her stomach at some point between the pages and she could no longer feel her mouth. If she dared to stand, she thought she would have trouble. Drunk was good right now. Natalie didn’t know if she could handle any of this news sober.

_The generators are holding back the decay, but only for a time. I wonder if it will be possible for their efficacy to continue until I can find a better solution. Doubtful, but it is not a question of if I need look for another way but what that way will be. The Veil cannot fall while we still battle Corypheus. I must be prepared first._

A chill ran down her spine as she flipped through the pages of his later notes, her blood running like ice water in her veins. This… this was all news she had not expected. So, it was not a question of if the Veil would fall, but when. Jesus Christ on a cracker, that was a terrible thought.

Maybe they shouldn’t be focusing on stopping him, but on mitigating the damage done when it happened. Or both? It seemed he had some kind of plans for when it fell, but it was hard to know what those would be. Was he planning some kind of magical reset button? Time magic, like Hale had described in Redcliffe?

An idea dawned on her. A stupid, foolish idea. She seemed to be full of those lately.

Falon’Din made no secret that he spied on her. What if he was spying on his fellow Evanuris as well? Could she get him to tell her what Solas as up to? It seemed foolhardy to try and play two gods against each other, like she was meddling in powers far beyond her comprehension. Which was, of course, the complete truth. Hale would likely slap her if she told him such an idiotic plan.

But maybe…

With a hoarse laugh, she collected the papers and books and journals that littered the floor around her and packed them carefully away, leaving out Solas’ observations on the Veil. The task would have been easier had she not needed to stop every few minutes to steady herself.This wasn’t her decision alone.

She would talk to Hale, and they would speak to the Dalish. And then they would move forward.

The original notebook lay open next to her as she collected the last of the volumes from the floor. An image of her own face stared up at her, heartbreaking in the detail it had been rendered in. She looked beautiful, far more than she ever thought she did in real life. Her fingertips traced the image for a moment, unwanted warmth blooming in her chest. Maybe he really had loved her, in his own way. But his way was not the way she needed, the way that brought about a healthy, trusting relationship. For all his years, he had a lot of growing left to do.

She closed the pages with a snap, feeling for all the world like the same thing was taking place within her. Like a page had been turned, a journal’s last page filled. There was only the white expanse of a new one before her, full of possibilities, waiting for her to write the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry about the long gap between chapters. As I mentioned before, there are some things going on in my personal life, and I've been traveling for work so it's thrown the posting schedule out the window. Likely, it will be another few weeks of this as things settle down, but I am feeling the energy to write again... so hopefully I won't leave you hanging quite so long. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. <3 I adore all of you and I am so, so grateful that you want to read all my nonsense.


	57. Famous Last Words

Her eyelashes hurt. So did her eyes. Come to think of it, her whole face hurt. But more than that, her brain did. Her head throbbed painfully.

Natalie woke bleary-eyed after far too little sleep and far too much wine in the early hours. The bed beside her was empty, missing the elven man who had been there when she had finally crawled into it as dawn broke. With a groan, she threw her arm over her face to shield it from the relentless rays of the sun outside her window. Maybe she could sleep for just, like, five more minutes. The sharp bang of the door clanged through her skull, splitting it into a dozen pieces and signaling that more sleep was not in the cards.

“Nat, get your ass up and let’s go.” Hale’s voice was thunderous in the small bedroom.

Cringing, she clapped her hands over her ears. “Jesus, Hale. Do you have to yell?”

“Yell? I’m not yelling,” he screamed, or at least it sounded like screaming to her. She felt the bed dip, shuffling her sideways. “Anders said to give you this. We found the empty bottle downstairs and he figured you wouldn’t be feeling the best this morning.” One of her hands was pulled away from her ears and a small bottle was pressed into her palm. “Drink it all.”

She peeled one eye open to peer first at the tiny green bottle and then at Hale’s grinning face. He looked thoroughly amused. Smug bastard. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of putting anything into it, but she sat up and uncorked the bottle anyway. Sharp herbs and a hint of something citrus hit her nose, sending her belly reeling. Gagging, she pushed the bottle back towards Hale.

“Nope. Drink.” He shoved it back into her hand and looked at her with a commanding glare. “Now.”

Scrunching her nose, she tipped the bottle to her lips and swallowed. It tasted like  _ green. _ Disgusting. Natalie shook her head like a dog, gagging slightly as Hale threw his head back and laughed harder than she had seen him in weeks.

“Feel better?” he asked, grinning at her.

“Peachy,” she replied, her stomach still roiling.

“Great.” Hale slapped her on the back, jerking her forward. “Get dressed and let’s go.” Standing, he left the room before she could tell him exactly what she thought of him right now.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’m up.”

The kitchen was deserted, the cooking fire having long since gone cold, when she finally made her way downstairs. Puzzled, she peered around the room, wondering where everyone was. The door to Anders’ bedroom stood open, and the room beyond as dark as this one.

Across the kitchen table, papers were spread in a wide arc. Solas’ papers. With a pang, she realized that she left them out last night. Even though she had every intention of sharing their contents with Hale and Anders, she felt a burn of annoyance at the base of her skull at their intrusion.  _ Yeah, like they belong to me in the first place. _ Well, they did now. Asshole. Shaking her head, she chalked up her grumpy mood to the burning hangover after too little sleep.

Laughter filtered in from outside as Natalie made her way to the doorway. Seeing no one, she wandered around the outside, following the growing sound of deep voices, both familiar and dear to her in their own way.

Two blonde heads were bent over a bed of late carrots. Hale was busy pulling the long, orange vegetables from the dark soil as Anders instructed him. “No, you have to knock the extra soil off before you put them in the basket.” Anders took the carrot from him, pounding it against his opposite palm once, twice before putting it in the basket.

Natalie expected to see Hale snap at him, angry and frustrated at the lack of a second hand. To her surprise, Hale lifted what remained of his left arm and tapped the next carrot against the end of the stump calmly before dropping it in the basket, the extra soil falling away. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good. I would hate to think that someone who can kill Corypheus can’t pick carrots.”

Hale let out a laugh, one not tinged with the same bitterness she had heard for weeks now. Natalie saw what Anders was doing, and it made her appreciate him all the more. Maybe she had coddled Hale a little too much, even as she found herself increasingly resentful of him. Watching him calm and performing a task as easily as he was now, she was relieved. Coming here was the right decision.

She watched for several more minutes as the two men worked their way down the row, leaning against the garden fence with her arms crossed over her chest and warmth blooming in her chest. These two men, she loved them. The idea wasn’t even shocking. A grin spread across her face. “Morning, fellas.”

They both looked up at her in surprise. Hale simply returned her grin. Anders looked mildly embarrassed. Curious. “You’re up.” His words were soft as he rose from the soil, carrying the basket they had been filling. “Do you want something to eat?”

Her stomach turned, still protesting her poor treatment of it the previous night. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

He walked over to stand before her, his eyes searching her face. “I see you did some reading last night. Are you alright?”

Was she? Surprisingly, yes, she thought she was. Natalie nodded. “I’m fine. I was just exorcising some demons, is all. I do have something we should all talk about, though.”

His hand came down on her shoulder, a soft smile on his face. “Well, I guess one of us needs to do that. I saw what the papers said. We do need to talk. All of us.”

Natalie nodded as the healer walked past her into the house. “We should go, now that you’re up. Deshanna is expecting us.” Hale’s face was calm, the lines that had taken up nearly permanent residence around his eyes a little smoother today.

“We should. Do you think they’re going to believe us?”

Hale shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Indeed, we will.”

 

* * *

 

The Dalish camp was much as she remembered it. Natalie had not returned in all the months since she moved into the cottage, although Hale’s sisters had occasionally stopped by to check on her and Anders and to offer food and supplies in the early days. Elves bustled around, attending to their daily tasks with an enviable peace. If only they knew…

Hale seemed to perk up even further as they rode into the heart of the camp, thankfully free of any assaults by intimidating she-elves this time. Two white heads met them at the center of the camp.

“Mae!” Hale called. “Asa’ma’lin! How are you both?” Dismounting, he made his way to his mother and sister.

Vhalla and Saeris both smiled at him, his mother stepping forward to fold him into a hug. Her eyes were sad as they pulled away, traveling the length of him and resting first on the stump where his left forearm was missing and then again on the fresh lines that creased his boyish face. Soft hands grasped either cheek as she looked into his eyes. “You are still too thin, ma’hallain.”

“Mae, I’m fine.” His voice was firm, sounding for once like he really might be.

Vhalla’s bright emerald eyes bore into him for a moment longer before she released him, nodding. Natalie felt the weight of her scrutiny as she turned her attention to the two humans in their midst. “Natalie. It is good to see you well, da’len. I have heard from Viera that you are doing good work at your cottage.”

Natalie smiled, bowing her head in respect. “Thank you, m’am. I have lots of help.” Her eyes darted over to Anders before returning to Hale’s mother. “My partner, Anders.”

Anders stiffened at the sound of his name. For all his ease at home and with their patients, he still had trouble meeting new people sometimes. His many years on the run had left an indelible stain. “She exaggerates.”

Vhalla nodded, a knowing smile on her face. “I see.”

Natalie felt her cheeks heat slightly. Hale’s mother had obviously gotten the wrong idea.

Vhalla turned, her arm motioning them further into the camp. “The Keeper awaits you, and the First with her. It would be rude to keep them waiting.”

Hale nodded. “We are ready.”

The aravel they were led to was larger than either of the two Natalie had been in on her previous visit to the camp, almost startlingly so. Strange objects hung from the thick canvas walls and sat around on tabletops and even the floor. Weaponry, statues, knick-knacks that gave off the impression of great age and weight. Hale had told her once that the reason the Dalish called their leaders Keepers was because they were the caretakers of their elven history. Well, the Keeper of Clan Lavellan was about to get a lore bomb straight to the face.

In the center of the room, two women sat cross-legged on the floor, their bottoms settled comfortably on large pillows that decorated the center of the room. Several more were arranged in a semi-circle. Natalie could only assume those were meant for them. One of them, she recognized. Dark hair with streaks of distinguished gray, a pointed face that was the echo of one she knew well. Emmaera, Hale’s oldest sister. The other was far older, her long hair a pure silvery gray that was pulled away from her face in a myriad of thin braids decorated in beads and a few feathers. They twisted around her head in an intricate halo.

“Keeper.” Hale bowed, his voice full of more respect than she generally heard him address anyone with. “First.” His sister received a second, slightly smaller bow.

“Haleir. I see you have returned home from the shemlen to the bosom of your clan.” The Keeper’s voice was husky, holding an echo of wisdom. “But not without some changes, I see.”

“Indeed, I have, Keeper.” Hale brushed off the comment about his missing arm. “Although I do not plan to reside with the people, but nearby.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers without hesitation. Natalie recognized the look in them. It was the same stubbornness and sense of challenge with which he had ruled the Inquisition from his throne at Skyhold.

“I see.” The older woman studied Hale’s face. “You would be welcomed back, Hale.”

Hale nodded. “I know. Thank you.” He left the words hanging there, not choosing to speak further. It was clear that he had no intention of continuing.

The Keeper’s head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowed. “You requested a meeting?”

“Yes, I have news from the south.” Hale stepped back, motioning for Natalie and Anders to come forward to stand beside him. “This is Natalie, she served with the Inquisition. And her companion, Anders. They are healers who live nearby.”

“I know who they are. Your sisters have brought me news of their activities, since they live on our borders.” Her voice was flat, almost bored.

For a moment, Natalie thought Hale might roll his eyes at the Keeper. “Yes, well. I’ll cut to the point then, Deshanna. The Dread Wolf lives. As in, he is an actual person walking this earth. And he plans to destroy us all.”

His statement was met by silence, and then… laughter. But only from the Keeper. Emmaera was quiet at her side, her eyes trained on her brother. “What do you mean, Hale?” she asked.

“Well, sister, I advise you to hold onto your smalls because that—” he sighed, “is a long story.”

Deshanna sobered, her chuckling gone. “Tell us.”

Hale’s face hardened into stone as he sat on the pillows across from him, tucking his legs beneath him. Motioning for the two mages to do the same, he began to speak. Natalie sat calmly as the entire sordid tale began to spill out. The clan leaders were silent, their faces betraying nothing as Hale described Solas, told them how he infiltrated his inner circle, relayed the events of the Crossroads and the lost lore of the ancient Elvhen they had learned and, finally, Solas’ plans to restore Arlathan.

“Before we left Skyhold, reports of elves disappearing from alienages and places of employment were already coming in. We think he is lying to them, gathering them into a force to help him accomplish his goal.” Hale finished his tale, watching the two women closely to see how they reacted. 

At first, they didn’t. Their faces continued to betray nothing of what they were thinking. Deshanna looked at Emmaera, their eyes communicating before any words were spoken. Natalie looked to Hale, the tension in the room thickening into an unbearable sludge. Anders was still beside her. It was the first time he had really heard the whole story, as well. His hand travelled over to grip hers, his palm warm and dry as he squeezed it. 

It was several minutes before anyone spoke, and it was Emmaera who broke the tension. “That is quite a tale, isa’ma’lin. It is a lot to take in.”

Hale nodded. “Yeah, it kind of took the wind out of my sails when I found out too.”

Deshanna sighed, her solemn facade cracking. “If what you say is true—”

“Look—” Hale interrupted. “Have I ever been one to spin tales? No. You yourself used to tell me that my blunt mouth was going to get me in trouble someday, Deshanna. Why would I lie about this? Why would I make this up? Why—”

Deshanna held up her hand to silence him. “Haleir, I believe what you are saying is the truth as you know it.”

Hale’s face flushed red. “It’s the truth  _ period.” _

“Your story contradicts everything we know to—”

“If I may?” Natalie could not stop her words. The Dalish were never going to just accept that the foundations of their beliefs were wrong without a fight. She had prepared for that.

The three elves turned their eyes to her, their faces stony. Deshanna gave her a curt nod. “What is it you have to add to this?”

Natalie bristled at the tone of her voice, and she could see Hale’s back snap straight next to her. Reaching for him, she put a hand on his arm to still him. “I know that what we have told you seems… ridiculous. But I was there, when all of what Hale has told you happened. Please believe us.”

“Deshanna, I don’t want to see this world destroyed because of some misplaced guilt on the part of one man.” Hale’s voice was calmer now that he had a moment to steady himself. “If you won’t help, at least promise me that Clan Lavellan will not answer any calls to join his insane cause.”

Deshanna nodded. “Haleir, your story is fantastical, but I am no fool. I have heard the rumors stirring of an elven rebellion forming in the far south. You are correct that there are already those who are joining this cause. I have no wish to see our clan destroyed in violence.”

Hale let out a long breath, his face softening. “I am glad to hear that, Keeper.”

She continued to study him with intense eyes for a few moments before speaking again. “I will believe your tale, Haleir. I believe that there is a man gathering supporters who is claiming to be Fen’Harel, and I believe that he does mean us harm. Clan Lavellan will not assist a madman in his quest for destruction.”

A hissing breath left Hale’s mouth. “Well, I guess that is better than nothing.”

“You ask us to take a lot on faith, Hale. Give us time to consider your words, to test their truth. We will think on what you have said today and I will send a runner when we wish to discuss this further.” 

“I can respect that.”

“There is one more thing.” Natalie’s voice was tentative as she interrupted their conversation. They all looked at her expectantly as she gathered her nerve to continue. “I have reason to believe the Veil is failing anyway.”

Hale’s face blanched as his head swiveled to look at her, his green eyes wide. Her heart pounded as she nodded to him before continuing. “It was never meant to be a permanent solution and it has been weakening in places for years, especially places that have seen a lot of bloodshed and sorrow. Even if you do not believe us about So—Fen’Harel, there is danger that it will fail all on its own anyway.”

Deshanna looked at her,  _ really  _ looked at her. “And how do you know this?”

She could hear the pulse beating in her ears like a drum line as she considered what she should tell them. In the end, it seemed best to tell them all of it. “Because Fen’Harel was my lover, before he revealed himself. I have… some things of his in my possession. Papers. Notes.”

“And that proves?” Emmaera’s voice was soft as she asked her question.

Natalie turned to look at her. “He created the Veil. If anyone is able to tell its state, don’t you think it would be him?”

The woman did not respond, only regarded her thoughtfully. It was annoying that they two of them chose to questions everything that she and Hale had tried to tell them today, but she couldn’t blame them. It was a crazy story. And a lot of the history Hale had told them directly conflicted with the long-held beliefs of the Dalish. 

In the absence of a response, Natalie continued. “I tell you this so you can prepare yourselves for the possibility that, even if we stop him, the Veil will fall.”

Deshanna’s gray head bowed in acknowledgement. “I will consider your words also.”

Hale’s lean form rose from the floor. She could tell by the look on his faces that he was frustrated at their lack of action. “Then we will take our leave for today. Send your runner when you have made up your mind that I am not a liar.” Without further discussion, he swept from the tent, leaving the flaps to slap together behind him. Without a word, Natalie and Anders followed him. 

Anders looked at her as they emerged back into the light of day. “Well, that could have gone worse.”

“And it could have gone better.”

“True, but at least we’re walking out of here without any blood on our clothes.”

Natalie chuckled, seeing Hale’s pale form already striding across the camp ahead of them, toward their horses. “True. Although that’s nothing new for us, is it?”

“I already had the laundry soap set out on the counter for when we got home, just in case.”

With a laugh, she joined Hale at the horses, mounting Daisy with ease. For a moment, she remembered her first day riding. Of Solas gazing up at her with outstretched arms to help her down. It seemed like almost another lifetime had passed since that day, and it remained to be seen if this one was better. 

Hale glanced at the two of them as they rode away from the Dalish camp. “We should start thinking seriously about our next steps. It would be helpful if we had someone who could venture south to find out the truth of these rumors Deshanna spoke of.”

Anders nodded. “We need to know what is happening, and what he is telling the elves to get them to join him.”

“When are your friends from Kirkwall visiting next?”

“They are due early next week, according to the last dinner invitation I received from your friend in Tevinter.”

“Good.” Hale nodded, facing forward once more. “We should discuss this with them. Hawke has contacts that Solas doesn’t know of. She may have ideas that I don’t.”

“Sounds like a decent plan. Hawke is a woman of many talents.” Anders’ face was tight as he said the words. “She will want to help, once she knows what is going on.”

“Let’s hope so. We need all the allies we can get.”

The ride home was quiet after that, the trio all lost in their own thoughts. She was sure Anders was thinking of Hawke and Hale of the conversation with his Keeper, while her own had turned to the words she read in the journals the previous night. With a pang in her chest, she thought about all of the things her lover had hidden from her… and how many more he still did.

She would find them out. All of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm still alive and i'm back! Sorry, things have been out of hand IRL lately BUT I think we're back moving again. 
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who are sticking around through my lack of updates in April. I super appreciate all of you who read this fic, especially those who take the time out of their day to kudos or leave comments. They really are motivating. I apologize that I have not been as good about responding to them in the last couple of chapters. Another thing I'm going to get back to!
> 
> Know that I managed, in my time off from actual writing, to outline the rest of everything for this fic. We have a plan. A solid one. One I am so excited to write for you. This is a 3-parter, folks, but for the sake of convenience I am going to leave it as one work.


End file.
